


The Years of Backtracking

by shadowsamurai



Series: The Affinity Chronicles [6]
Category: Waking the Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Subtext
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-09
Updated: 2012-07-09
Packaged: 2017-11-09 12:12:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 46,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/455317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsamurai/pseuds/shadowsamurai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 6 of The Affinity Chronicles shows Boyd and Grace's relationship as it is torn and tested through work. The Years of Backtracking will feature tales from the day of the first cold case through to the last. Join Boyd and Grace as their journey of friendship starts to near its end, where pain and loss will bring them closer together and pull them apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pilot and Season 1

**Author's Note:**

> There is one chapter to each season. A break in the story (like this WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD) will indicate the part of the chapter dedicated to each episode, while this break (*-*-*-*-*) means it's set in the same episode, just different time frame. There may be two or three of those breaks, there may be none. There'll also be between episode bits as well to tie everything in. I've also put a date at the beginning of each segment, but the date is based loosely around the first aired dates, so they might not be very accurate.
> 
> Spoilers for every single episode, from the pilot to Season 8. Ignores Season 9.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*Pilot, September 2000*

Boyd turned the engine off and let out a big sigh, leaning his head back against his car seat. It had been a whirlwind of a week. The cold case unit had solved their first case, but they had almost lost Mel in the process which took some of the shine off their success. Spencer and Frankie were finally getting along better, Boyd had been promoted to Detective Superintendent, which he had been surprised but pleased about, and his and Grace's friendship was gaining in strength once more.

Now all he wanted to do was enjoy a rare weekend off with Jen and Matt. Climbing out of his car, Boyd thought about his partner. Even though she used his surname, they had never actually gotten around to marrying, and in that particular moment, it bothered Boyd. He was tempted to propose; if Jen said yes, it would the perfect end to an almost perfect week.

But as soon as he opened the front door, Boyd knew something was wrong. The house was too quiet and it felt too empty, so slowly, making very little sound, he made his way down the corridor towards the kitchen, the only room where a light was on.

Jen was there, staring at the doorway, as though she was waiting for him to come home. "Hello, Peter."

Boyd stopped just inside the kitchen. "What's going on?"

Jen sighed. "Let's sit down."

"Let's not. What's going on?"

"I don't want to fight over this," she said. "I just want you to listen for a moment. I got a call a few days ago from Matt's father…his biological father. He wanted to see me so we met for lunch. He wants a second chance, Peter; he wants me and Matt back so we can be a family."

Boyd felt as though he'd been kicked in the balls, but he kept his expression neutral. "What did you say?"

Jen sighed and started pacing. "At first I was going to reject the idea. I remember how he just ran off when I told him I was pregnant. But we talked all afternoon, and I think he is genuine. I - I said we'd try. I've already packed my things. I'll stay with my sister while Greg and I get to know each other again." She stopped in front of Boyd and looked into his dark eyes. "I know that when I leave here, I'll never be able to come back. I made my decision with that in mind."

"I see," Boyd replied, now feeling as though he had been stabbed as well. He couldn't tell Jen she was wrong; if things didn't work out with Greg, Boyd would have taken her back. Her and Matt were his last chance of having a family and doing things right.

Jen reached out and put her hand against Boyd's cheek. "Yes, I think you do, Peter. I would offer to keep in touch, but I don't think you'd want that either."

"Is it the job?" he asked suddenly.

"No."

"Grace?"

Jen smiled as she looked at him. "Despite your worries, I've never felt threatened by your friendship with Grace. It's not you, Peter. I know that's a corny line, but it's true. I know you love Matt like he's your own, but he's not. Somewhere down the line, you could both easily have ended up resenting each other and I don't want that."

Boyd clenched his jaw, and while it looked like anger, it was actually to stop himself from crying. "I understand," he said stiffly. "You should go. Matt will be missing you."

Jen stood on her toes and kissed Boyd's cheek, very close to the corner of his mouth. "I'm sorry to do this to you, Peter, but thank you for being understanding." She walked around him, stopping in the corridor. "I've left my keys on the table. Take care of yourself."

Boyd heard the front door slam but didn't move for a long time. Once again he was alone, with no one to talk to…. Suddenly he found himself with his mobile to his ear, unaware of whose number he had dialled.

*"Hello?"* a voice answered.

Despite what had just happened, Boyd smiled. Of course it was her he had called. "Hi, Grace."

*"Boyd? What's wrong?"* Grace asked, sensing the break in his voice.

"I -" He paused. "It's Jen. She's - she's gone."

There was a short silence. *"I see. Do you want me to come round?"*

Boyd sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Yeah. If it's not too much trouble."

*"For you? Never,"* Grace replied gently.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*November 2000*

Boyd looked around the house with a certain distaste. Although it was his, it held more bad memories than he cared for. When Mary divorced him, she had told him to keep the house for two reasons. One was it held absolutely no good memories for her, and if she had her way she would take a JCB to it and flatten it until it was completely level. Boyd winced as he remembered the tone she had used to deliver that comment to him; it could have been used to strip the hulls of oil tankers. The second reason was much more practical, and it also came as something of a surprise to Boyd; Mary didn't need the house because she would be moving in with her boyfriend. Boyd didn't even bother to ask when they had met, or even how long they had been seeing each other. As far as he was concerned, he just wanted the divorce over and done with as soon as possible and if Mary didn't want the house, he'd keep it.

Then when he met Jen and little Matt, the house had come in useful as Jen had been living in a small flat. But now they had both gone, with no chance of them returning. The only contact Boyd had with Jen since she had left was a quick phone call to let him know how wonderful everything was going for her. Boyd had almost retorted in his most sarcastic tone, but stopped himself at the minute. After all, no one was really to blame for Jen leaving, and while he had hoped she would stay, deep down Boyd knew she would move on eventually. Because really, he wasn't husband or father material, a fact he had proven twice, on both accounts, now.

And now he found himself moving into a smaller house in Greenwich, away from the memories of his current abode and neighbourhood. And while he was looking forward to the change, Boyd was finding actually getting there was difficult. He had packed up the boxes with his meagre possessions and gotten no further. For some reason, he lacked motivation to give up a large part of his life. And so when someone knocked on the door, it was a welcome distraction and a good excuse to stop doing nothing.

"Grace," Boyd greeted his visitor, frowning at the same time. "What are you doing here? Is everything okay?"

Grace smiled. "I thought you might like some help. I can imagine this isn't easy for you."

"You're a bloody mind reader, you know that?" Boyd replied, slightly sourly.

"I've known you long enough to be allowed that title," Grace said, her smile growing. "So, do you want some help?"

Boyd acquiesced immediately. "Thank you."

Grace's expression grew both mysterious and mischievous, and she turned to look over her shoulder. "You can get out of the car now!" She looked back at Boyd. "I thought five pairs of hands were better than one or two. And I thought it would be good for us all to…."

"Bond?" Boyd asked, suppressing a groan which masked his genuine smile of gratitude.

"Something like that."

"So, where's the heavy stuff?" Spencer asked as he, Frankie and Mel all walked up the path.

Mel squeezed his bicep. "Yeah, plenty of muscle there."

"Pity about the lack of brains, but I suppose you can't have both," Frankie added with a grin.

"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?" Boyd asked, looking upwards and not actually speaking to anyone in particular.

Grace touched his arm. "You know you love it," she said as they all trooped inside.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*December 2000*

"Why do you always have to argue with me?"

"It's an ingrained habit. Besides, you started it."

"Me?"

"Of course. Who tried to make me cry as a baby?"

"You're not serious! You can't remember that!"

"Why not, Grace? You do."

"That's different."

"Why? Because you're older…by about six months?"

"Look, Boyd, for once, just don't argue."

"We'd never talk if we didn't argue."

"We stopped talking once, remember? And that was because of an argument!"

"Grace, I don't…."

"I don't care, Boyd! For once, this is what *I* want. And I want to spend Christmas with my oldest, dearest, best friend…before I murder him! I want to eat more than I should and then kip in front of the TV afterwards, leaving the dishes until the next day. I want to drink and be merry, and I want you to do the same, but not on your own. With me. Is that too much to ask?"

"Yes."

"Boyd…."

"Alright, Grace, you win. But…."

"Oh God, there has to be a but!"

"No need to take that tone. I was just going to suggest that maybe next year, we could invite the rest of the team. Make it a…family thing. If we're all still working together and haven't killed each other by then."

"I'm shocked. Peter Boyd, sentimentalist. I never thought I'd see the day."

"Do you want company at Christmas or not?"

"Yes. You'd make the perfect Scrooge."

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*March 2001*

Spencer almost screamed in frustration as they reached another dead end. "I don't believe this!"

Mel sighed and leant against a wall. "We could just phone Boyd and explain the situation to him, you know," she said.

"Or better yet, Grace," Frankie added.

"And have to endure never ending ridicule over this? No way."

Mel and Frankie looked at each other and rolled their eyes. "Yeah, because there's no way this situation is embarrassing in the *slightest* so far," the pathologist muttered quietly. It was loud enough for her companion to hear, causing the DC to choke on her laughter, but Spencer remained unhappily unaware.

 

"Let's go back," he said. "We must have made a wrong turning on the stairwell."

In another part of the building, Boyd looked at his watch for the thousandth time. "Where the hell are they?" he asked in frustration.

"How the hell should I know?" Grace replied, equally frustrated.

"They're late."

"I know, Boyd!"

In fact, the younger members of the team weren't just 'late'; they were on the verge of being declared MIA, and Boyd was one breath away from sending a search and rescue party out for them when they walked into the room, looking breathless, fed up, and ever-so-slightly embarrassed.

"Where the hell have you been?" Boyd asked, and there was an echo when he spoke that sounded surprisingly like Grace.

"We were just…," Spencer started to say, but was interrupted impatiently by Frankie.

"We got lost, okay? I mean, what do you expect? A little warning would have been nice," the pathologist grumbled.

Mel nodded in agreement. "Yeah. But instead, we show up to work this morning to find our office looks like a yoga centre and no clue as to where our new offices are."

"Except this." Spencer held up a crumbled piece of paper. "How were we ever to find our way with this, sir?"

Boyd blinked. "Why are you looking at me? I didn't draw it. I've never seen it before in my life." He stopped and stared at it suddenly. "That's why you're so late! And you call yourselves coppers." He shook his head, debating whether to laugh loudly or groan in total despair.

"What?" Frankie asked.

Mel tilted her head to look at the paper and suddenly groaned loudly. Boyd was proud. "Spence, did you check the back of the paper?"

"No, why?" he replied.

Mel grabbed it and turned it over. "'We've moved. Down the corridor, third door on the right'," she read.

"That's Boyd's scrawl," Frankie confirmed, looking over Spencer's shoulder.

The DS frowned. "Then who…?"

All eyes turned to Grace, who just spread her hands in an innocent gesture. "What?"

"Grace, go to your office," Boyd said sternly.

"Does it have a lock?" Mel asked. "Preferably lockable from the outside."

Frankie shook her head. "You should be ashamed, Grace."

"Why?" the profiler replied. "Don't you have a sense of humour?"

"Not on a Monday morning we don't," Spencer told her, and while his expression was serious, his eyes were smiling.

"What are we doing here anyway, sir?" Mel asked Boyd.

"We live here now. More space, separate interview rooms within our office…." He gestured to the right. "…Separate offices for me and Grace, and more staff to help us. Generally better all round."

"Supposedly," Grace added.

"What about me?" Frankie asked.

"Larger lab, more technicians," Boyd said. "And it's far away from the rest of us."

Frankie grinned. "Great! How do I get there?"

Grace's expression was smug. "Look at the map."

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*Burn Out, June 2001*

When Christie asked Grace how old Joe would have been, she hesitated before she answered. Luckily, the DAC just thought she was debating whether to tell him or not and didn't pursue the subject. When he left, Grace let out a long breath she didn't realise she had been holding.

When Grace had started talking to Boyd again, she didn't realise that Boyd had constructed a web of lies to protect himself from the truth. Unfortunately, he had started to believe the false truths and Grace could see they were now doing him more harm than good. But she also knew that trying to break Boyd out of the cycle would cause him irreparable damage. So for now, she lied for him, staying in his world with him just so he wasn't alone. They had both been alone before, and for too long, and Grace was determined it wouldn't happen again.

So if she had to tell the DAC that Joe was older than he actually was when he disappeared, what did it matter? For now, Boyd had to be protected. It was wrong, and all of Grace's instincts as a psychologist screamed at her that she was as insane as some of the patients she had treated, but she couldn't bring herself to hurt her oldest friend. Not again.

"What've I done this time?" Boyd asked, startling Grace, and she looked up to see him stood in her doorway, his arms folded across his chest.

"What are you talking about?"

Boyd smiled. "That look you're wearing, Grace, is reserved especially for me. I think by now I'd recognise it."

Grace sighed. "Ralph was asking me where you were before we took this case, and I told him to go easy on you…because it was Joe's birthday."

Boyd nodded slowly. "And why are you upset with me?"

"Ralph asked how old Joe would have been."

"And?"

Grace hesitated again. "I told him the age you had given me."

"Eighteen?" Boyd asked, looking confused.

"No, twenty five," Grace replied, frowning a little. "You told me he would have been twenty five this year."

"I know, but…I lied, Grace. You know that," Boyd said. "You know how old Joe really is, how old he was when he disappeared."

Grace shook her head a little, her expression bewildered. "Yes, but I thought…."

Boyd stared at her for a long time. "You thought I was deluding myself, that I had actually started to believe the lies I've been telling people." He ran a hand through his hair. "I know how old Joe is and I know how old he was when he disappeared, but do you really think people would understand? Making him older than he is makes it more acceptable. I know that's a really shitty thing to do on my part, Grace, but it's been necessary. I know I was a bad father; I don't need everyone else giving me grief for it."

"I'm sorry, Boyd. It seems that, once again, I misjudged you."

Boyd smiled. "I'm used to it after all these years. Do you fancy a drink?" he said quickly before she could retort.

"After a comment like that, you owe me one," Grace replied, her eyes flashing dangerously. "And not here."

Boyd's smile softened. "I was thinking the Greek place down the road."

"Oh, you're definitely forgiven," Grace said, smiling back.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*Blind Beggar, June 2001*

"I thought I might find you here."

Boyd turned to look at Grace in mild surprise. "I wasn't exactly hiding."

"Oh." She sounded a little crestfallen. "Shall I go then?"

"No, I was just…. Never mind." Boyd turned his attention back to the empty car park below. He was stood in his office, looking out of the window, his mind clearly elsewhere.

Grace leant against the doorframe with her arms crossed. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"How could someone do that, Grace?" Boyd asked, his voice quiet. "How could someone kill their own son?"

Of all the things he could have said, that was not what she expected. Carefully, moving slowly, Grace entered his room and sat on the couch. She knew it had been a good idea to bully him into buying one each for their offices.

"But Nick wasn't James' son," Grace pointed out gently.

Boyd turned. "What does that have to do anything? Matt wasn't my son, but I'd never dream of killing him."

"You knew that from the beginning, though."

"So? Family is just that, Grace, no matter what shape or form it comes in," Boyd replied, leaning against his desk. She was surprised to see his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "How could a father do that?"

Grace just shrugged slightly. "I don't have an answer for you, Peter. I'm sorry."

"Were you talking about me?" Boyd asked suddenly.

Grace blinked, taken aback at the sudden change in conversation. "Sorry?"

"You said that even the sweetest children can grow up into monsters and we'd still feel drawn to them, feel affection for them," he said. "Or something like that. You were trying to rationalise things for me, as usual."

"I remember the conversation. What made you think I was talking about you?"

"I'm a monster."

"No, you're not," Grace scoffed. "What an absurd notion."

"So you weren't talking about me?" Boyd asked.

Grace smiled. "No, but not because you're not a monster."

"Pardon?"

"I couldn't have been talking about you because you weren't a sweet child," she told him, smirking broadly.

Boyd stared for a moment before exclaiming, "Grace!" and then laughing with her.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*A Simple Sacrifice, July 2001*

"Can you believe Mel wasn't even alive in '75?" Grace asked, staring at the ceiling.

Boyd grunted. "I can't believe it was over twenty five years ago." He shook his head as he played with the stem of his wine glass.

"It seems like a lifetime ago," Grace murmured, sipping her drink.

They were in Boyd's office after hours, Grace on the couch with her legs tucked underneath her, Boyd sat behind his desk, his tie long since discarded and the first few buttons of his shirt undone.

"So," Boyd said after a while, his tone casual, "What were you doing in '75?"

Grace threw her head back and laughed loudly. "I've been waiting for you to ask me that!"

Boyd smiled. "I didn't think I should in front of everyone else," he said, then grimaced.

Grace sobered instantly. "Stitches?"

He nodded. "Every so often I pull them. Don't worry, I'm fine," he assured her when her expression turned worried.

"You'll tell me if you're not."

"Yes, Grace, I'll tell you."

"Peter, you could have…."

Boyd held his hand up. "Grace, please, we've been over this. I could have and I didn't. That's it. End of story."

"Can I help it if I'm worried about you?" Grace retorted smartly.

"I'd worry if you weren't," Boyd said. "So, are you going to answer the question?"

"What question? Oh, that one." Grace blushed magnificently. "No, I don't think I will."

Boyd raised his eyebrows. "Why, Dr Foley, were you…?"

"No," Grace cut him off quickly. "It's not what you're thinking, although I'm certain what you're thinking is how you did your back in."

"I wish."

Almost as soon as the words left Boyd's mouth, he realised what he had said, but it was far too late to repair the damage. Grace started choking on her drink and Boyd was forced to leave the safety of his desk to help her.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"Don't mention it," Grace replied eventually. "So what *were* you doing?"

Boyd shook his head, settling next to her. "You first."

"You'll laugh."

"Would I?"

"Yes," Grace said quickly. "Oh, alright, if you must know, I was part of a drama group."

Boyd just nodded. "And?"

"And I spent most of the year learning Shakespeare only to find I have stage fright," Grace replied. "Needless to say I gave drama up and never set foot onstage again."

"See? That wasn't so bad. What was the role?"

Grace sighed. "Iris in The Tempest. Now you."

Boyd's face darkened. "Not a good idea."

Grace looked surprised. "Why?"

Boyd poured them both another drink, making sure that when he sat back down, there was a good distance between himself and his old friend. "You sure you want to know?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember when Nick Patterson and I arrested your father?" Boyd asked, and Grace nodded. "Well I had to rugby tackle him to the floor and he still resisted arrest. It wasn't until later I realised I'd done something to my back."

"Peter, do you think I'm still angry with you after all this time?" Grace asked him in surprise. "It was over twenty five years ago, and we've both done worse to each other." She shifted across the couch until their thighs and arms were touching, then she laid her head on his shoulder. "Is your back better now?"

"Thanks to Annie," Boyd replied, resting his cheek lightly against Grace's hair.

She sighed somewhat contentedly. "Good."

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*Every Breath You Take, July 2001*

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" Boyd asked irritably.

"No," Grace replied.

"Grace, I'm tired."

"Stop whining."

"Why are you being grumpy with me?"

Grace sighed and looked at him. "Because you won't shut up. It's a surprise for your birthday, alright?"

"I don't like surprises," Boyd grumbled.

Grace rolled her eyes. "You sound like the Grinch. Come on!"

Three hours later and Boyd was busy gloating, very loudly, that he had been right and Grace's plan had been a bad idea.

"Seriously, what made you think I'd want to go to see a live band?" he shouted as they walked along the river.

"I didn't realise it was going to be so loud!" Grace yelled back, drawing strange looks from a few passer-bys.

Boyd turned his head sideways a little to look at her. "That didn't answer my question."

Grace looked back. "You don't have any idea?"

Boyd stared back ahead, his hands thrust deep into his coat pocket, his scarf wrapped around his neck and his collar up to ward off the chill in the air. "It's cold," he noted, thinking that such a temperature in July should have been illegal.

"It always is on your birthday," Grace replied.

"It's not my birthday."

Grace cuffed him on the shoulder. "Close enough. If you remember rightly, we were a little busy on the actual day."

"We went to see a band. We walked down to the river and sat by it," Boyd said suddenly and quietly. "We got cold and I hadn't brought a jacket for you to borrow. So you borrowed my arms instead." He paused. "You thought I'd forgotten."

Grace slipped her arm through his and held onto it. "I wondered."

"How could I forget? You broke up with me not long after."

Grace sighed. "I don't want to talk about that, Boyd. Not today. Can't we just enjoy this time together?"

Boyd nodded and flexed his arm, effectively squeezing hers. "No, Grace, I never forgot that day, just like I never forgot any time I spent with you, both good and bad."

"You say such nice things sometimes, Peter," she replied, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"At least we've got jackets this time," he muttered after a while, earning him a light whack on the stomach followed by his favourite sound in the world; Grace laughing.

TBC


	2. Interlude - Season 1 to 2

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*October 2001*

Grace didn't bother about how she looked, all she cared about was relaxing. It had been another long week at work, and she needed desperately to chill out. As she walked from the front door to the living room, she kicked off her shoes, dropped her bag on the floor, and shrugged herself out of her coat. Her thin scarf went somewhere, as did the jumper she wore for work; anyone entering the house wishing to find her would only have to follow the trail of destruction. As Grace sank onto her couch, she sighed with relief. All she needed now was someone to pour her a glass of wine and massage her feet, and she would be in heaven. A small smile crossed her face as she considered phoning Boyd, but from the look on his face when he left the office, he was at least as tired as she was, if not more so. In fact, the whole team needed a break, but when they would actually get one was anyone's guess.

It was a couple of glasses of wine later when Grace remembered to check her answering machine, and to her surprise, she found she had a message from both Jackie and Andrew. Immediately thinking something was wrong, she called Jackie back.

"Hi, love, just got your message. What's happened?" Grace said.

*"Nothing,"* Jackie replied, but her tone indicated it was a whole lot of something.

"I see. And this 'nothing' was so important that both you *and* Andrew had to phone, was it?"

Jackie cursed under her breath. *"I told him I'd take care of it. Why is it he never listens?"*

"Because he's a man. So, what is it? Are you both alright?"

*"We're fine. Look, I'd rather do this face to face."*

"I'm sorry, love, but I don't know when I'll have the time to see you," Grace replied.

*"Yeah. Work. Of course. I forgot,"* Jackie said.

"I don't need your sarcasm, young lady." Through the pleasant haze of wine, an unpleasant fact reared its ugly head. Though technically not related at all, James' children had always called Grace 'Mum'; Jackie hadn't used the term once during the phone call so far, which wasn't normal at all.

*"And I don't need lecturing."* Jackie paused. *"You've been drinking, haven't you?"*

Grace sighed, away from the mouthpiece of the phone. "And *I* don't need lecturing either. Are you going to tell me what this is all about or do I have to guess?"

Irked by Grace's blasé manner, Jackie simply blurted out the reason for her call. *"Andrew and I are moving to Australia."*

That statement was more than sobering to the profiler. "I see," she managed eventually. "When?"

*"A few months."*

"And how long have you been planning this?"

*"A while,"* was the evasive answer.

"And when were you planning on telling me?" Grace asked incredulously.

*"I just did,"* Jackie said.

By this time, Grace was almost in tears. "What have I done to deserve this hostility from you? What about your husband? And Andrew's girlfriend?"

*"They're both coming with us."* Jackie sighed. *"We've got family in Australia, and we can all live a better life there. Andrew and Keenan have already got jobs lined up. I'll probably have something by the time we get there, and Alice is quite happy to play housemaid for us while we settle in."^*

"It sounds like you've got everything well planned out." Grace's tone had gone cold and unfeeling; she simply couldn't help it. "Will I see you before you leave?"

*"If you have the time."*

"I'll see what I can do. Was there anything else?"

*"Don't be like this, Grace…."*

Grace's constraint snapped cleanly in two. "I think I have a right, don't you? I helped your father raise both of you from childhood, I looked after you after James died, I've been the only mother you've known properly, and this is how you treat me! How the hell do you expect me to react? Calmly and rationally? Not over this. You didn't even have the decency to mention that you were thinking of moving, you just waited until it was all practically finalised." She took a breath. "I suppose you've got your tickets booked and everything?"

*"Yes,"* Jackie said quietly.

"I see. Then unless you want to give me those dates, there's nothing left to discuss." Grace waited a moment, her heart shrivelling in her chest. "I see," she repeated, and put the phone down.

Since her husband's death, her relationship with the children had deteriorated, though it had never been particularly good to start with. It was like no matter what Grace did, the children always found fault with her, though she suspected it was more Jackie than Andrew, but as Jackie was older, she had considerable sway over her brother. The fall-back argument from the kids had always been 'you're not our mother', even though Grace had filled that role for most of their lives. It just went to show that sometimes nature won over nurture, and now she found herself truly without family.

Almost as an afterthought, Grace pulled the phone cord from the socket on the wall, turned her mobile off, and reached teary-eyed for the bottle of wine on the table. Alcohol was all the company she needed right then.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*December 2001*

Grace's sudden reversal of her decision didn't sit well with Boyd. First of all, he didn't want to celebrate Christmas to start with, then to have Grace invite him and the rest of the team over, only to rescind the invitation a week before the day, had irritated him beyond belief. Secondly, her tone and manner had been abrupt for weeks now, and she refused to tell him why. Thirdly…thirdly he actually wanted company that year, which was the first time since Joe had disappeared. And despite Grace's comment the previous year about him being Scrooge, Boyd was determined to cheer his old friend up.

"If she doesn't want to be disturbed, sir, maybe we should respect her wishes," Spencer said, stamping his feet to stay warm. It wasn't snowing, but it was as cold as hell on a bad day.

Boyd shook his head. "I know Grace," he replied quietly. "Something's not quite right, so we're going to bring Christmas to her."

"We're ready," Frankie said with a grin, her reindeer antlers set at an angle.

Mel nodded. She was wearing a bright red reindeer nose, though her actual nose was probably redder from the cold. "Can we get on with this?" she asked. "I'm freezing!"

"Of course, and you can ring the bell," Boyd told her.

"Why me?"

"You're the youngest, you were the first to complain, and because I said so."

Grumbling, Mel reached up and pressed Grace's doorbell. A few minutes later, they heard footsteps approaching and the front door opened to reveal a rather miserable looking profiler, whose expression registered equal amounts of shock, incredulity and disbelief.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, looking from Mel, to Frankie, to Spencer. "It's Christmas Day, in case you hadn't noticed."

"We had," Boyd spoke up, stepping into view. "And we didn't want you to be alone."

It was a gamble, he knew, but he also knew Grace wouldn't shut the door in their faces…at least he hoped she wouldn't. As he watched, a myriad of expressions flitted over her face before finally settling to one of resignation.

"Come in, you all look freezing," Grace invited them.

The younger three didn't need asking twice. They all but ran into the house, cramming themselves three abreast through the doorway, causing both Grace and Boyd to smile. But Boyd lingered on the doorstep.

"I know you've been unhappy about something, and I don't pretend to know what it is," he said quietly. "And I know it's not like me to notice there things, but…well, we have known each other a long time."

"Peter…."

Boyd held his hand up. "You don't have to tell me. And if you honestly want us to go, we will. I just thought…."

"That must be a first," Grace remarked, and Boyd almost took her seriously, until he saw her blue eyes shining with mischief.

"No more Christmases alone," he said, and Grace took it to mean a promise that included all of them.

She nodded. "No. Now are you going to come in or stand there all day? You're letting all the warm air out."

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*April 2002*

Grace fidgeted nervously. Had she just missed them? Were they delayed? Was she even at the right airport?

*'Calm down,'* she told herself silently. *'This is the right place, and everything is on time, which means they should be here any…second.'*

As the thought was completed, Grace spotted the figures she was looking for, but in that instant, she froze. She wanted to approach, to talk to them one last time, but she found she couldn't, and with a dry sob, she turned to leave.

"Mum?"

Grace froze again, but differently this time. It was a feeling of profound loss and guilt, hurt and anger. Knowing there was now no escape, she turned and plastered a smile on her frozen face.

"Andrew."

Approaching along with her stepson was his girlfriend, Alice, his sister, Jackie, and her husband, Keenan. Andrew looked so much like his father, who in turn had reminded her so much of Boyd, and Grace felt a fresh surge of pain coursing through her.

"What are you doing here?" Andrew asked. He stopped just short of hugging her, and looked uncomfortable.

"I just wanted to say goodbye, and wish you well," Grace replied.

Keenan, who was well aware of the family dynamics, grabbed Alice's hand. "We're going for a coffee," he announced in his usual no-nonsense way. "Sort yourselves out."

"I think the best thing you ever did was marry him," Grace murmured mildly.

Jackie nodded. "We can definitely agree on that."

Grace swallowed. This was harder than she thought. "Do you think you'll manage to write once in a while? Or just a Christmas card?"

"I'm sure we can manage more than that," Andrew promised, and without further hesitation, through his arms around Grace's neck. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too," Grace said, choking back tears.

But Jackie didn't move. "Look after yourself, Grace."

The profiler didn't flinch outwardly, but inwardly she was cringing. The tone was definite; she knew in her heart she would never see her 'children' again, but then again, they were never her children. And that sudden clear insight made Grace straighten, all traces of tears gone. They obviously didn't think of her as a parent any more, so why should she think of them as her children?

"You as well, Jackie," she replied. "You'd better go. Don't want to miss your flight." Jackie nodded, but hesitated. But Grace didn't give her chance to change her mind. She was tired of the dance, and so she did the only thing she could think of. "I have to go, anyway. A new case at work, very urgent."

And with that, she gave a little wave, turned and walked away. Once outside, though, it was an entirely different matter. Grace started to shake as soon as the cold air hit her. Though she knew she couldn't change anything, getting used to the idea of not being a parent any more would take some getting used to. And Jackie's cool dismissal had stung more than Grace wanted to admit, despite her own initial acceptance of the situation. Covering her face with her hands, she started to cry.

Moments later, strong hands took hold of her shoulders and Grace found herself being pulled forwards to meet a very solid, warm chest. A cheek came to rest of the top of her head and she curled her fingers into the fabric of the shirt in front of her. He never spoke, never made a sound, never moved his hands from her shoulders. He just held her, supporting her. And when Grace had finally stopped crying, he handed her a tissue.

"Come on," Boyd said in a quiet voice. "I'll take you home."

Linking her arm with his, Grace smiled, though it was a little watery. "Thank you, Peter."

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*July 2002*

Spencer almost screamed in frustration as they reached another dead end. "I don't believe this!"

Mel sighed and rolled her eyes. "Are you getting a sense of déjà vu here?" she asked Frankie.

"Oh yeah, big time," the pathologist replied. "Look, I'm phoning Boyd…."

"Or Grace," Mel interrupted.

Frankie nodded. "Yeah. One of them. I *am* not going through a repeat of last year."

But Spencer shook his head. "Do you remember the stick we got for that last time?"

"We only got 'stick', Spence, because we *didn't* phone them!" Mel replied in exasperation.

In the new offices for the cold case unit, Boyd leant back in his chair and looked at Grace sideways. "They're late."

She just nodded. "They are."

"Again."

"Indeed."

"Want to take bets on how long it will take them to find us?" Boyd asked.

"With your directions? At least Christmas," Grace replied, smiling. "You know, we could phone them."

Boyd's expression turned somewhat indignant. "And give up an excuse to yell? Grace, please."

She laughed, making Boyd smile. He loved the sound of her laughing, although he'd never admit to such a thing. But before their banter could continue, the younger members of the team walked into the squad room, and from the looks of it, Spencer was being dragged by the two women.

"Where the hell have you been?" Boyd asked, and there was an echo when he spoke that sounded surprisingly like Grace.

Mel and Frankie rolled their eyes in unison. "Lost, and it was *his* fault," the scientist said, elbowing Spencer.

"Yeah, typical man, refused to stop and ask for directions," Mel added, smiling.

Grace chuckled and steadfastly avoided meeting Boyd's gaze. Unfortunately, the man in question had to speak. "Spencer," he said in his deep voice.

"Yes, sir?" Spencer was busy sulking, and he did a magnificent job of it.

"Pull your bottom lip in before someone trips over it."

Grace couldn't help herself any longer. She laughed out loud, both surprised and thankful that both Mel and Frankie joined in too. Even Boyd was grinning from ear to ear, and Spencer just made rude hand gestures before finally giving in and joining them.

"So, we're here now, yeah?" Mel asked eventually.

"Yeah," Boyd replied, nodding.

"I'm there," Grace said, pointing to the room behind her.

"And I'm there," Boyd added, pointing to the room behind *him.*

"And I'm where?" Frankie asked.

Both Boyd and Grace pointed to the other double doors opposite the DSI. "Through there."

"So we're…," Spencer started.

"Here," Boyd said, nodding.

"And here," Grace added.

"Great," Mel replied.

Spencer clapped his hands together. "Bring on the cases."

"I suppose I'd better go and see what equipment they've given me," Frankie said unenthusiastically, and so missed the look Grace and Boyd shared.

Mel, however, didn't. "What?"

Grace smiled. "You'll see in a minute."

"Oh…my…*God*!" Frankie exclaimed, loud enough to be heard on the top floor. "I've died and gone to heaven!"

TBC


	3. Season 2

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*Life Sentence, September 2002*

Boyd paced around his office as Grace watched him and when he made his third circuit of the room, she started counting.

"Five…four…three…two…one," she murmured.

"Hi, Grace."

She looked up, pretending to be surprised. "Hi, Boyd. Bored?"

"Can't I just come and see you without having a reason?"

"No." Grace took her glasses off and sat back in her seat. "What can I do for you?"

Boyd sat down and ran a hand through his hair. "I wanted to…talk."

Grace looked surprised. "About Mel?"

"What? No," Boyd replied, confused. "What made you think that?"

"Well, she was in danger…."

"I was never worried about Mel during this case," Boyd interrupted. "I know she can take care of herself, and she did do."

Grace smiled. "You're proud of her."

"Oh, don't start, Grace," Boyd groaned.

She laughed. "Alright, so what did you want to talk about?"

"I wanted your professional opinion."

"On?"

"Spence."

"Ah." Grace nodded. "I see."

"Do you?" Boyd asked.

"You want to know what his problem is."

Boyd hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. That's pretty much it."

"What do you think it is?" Grace asked.

"Oh, come on, that's not fair. You're supposed to give me your opinion, not psychoanalyse me," Boyd grumbled.

"I will give you my opinion, I just wanted to know what you thought was the problem first," Grace replied. "Not psychoanalysing or psychobabble, okay?"

Boyd sighed. "I…think Spence…doesn't like the way I do things. I think…he thinks he should be treated with more respect, but he's not the boss. He's not the one in charge, he's just a DS. He…." Boyd's expression turned reluctant. "He probably wonders why I bollock him for things that I would do without hesitation."

Grace nodded. "Spence doesn't realise you see yourself in him, and that you don't want him to make your mistakes because in this day and age, they would seriously damage his career. And the base reason for his attitude is quite simple."

"And what's that?" Boyd asked.

"He's a coloured officer," Grace replied. "He feels the need to prove himself."

"But I don't treat him any differently than any other officer, white or black, male or female, even bloody straight or gay!" Boyd snapped, gesturing with one hand.

"I know, and a lot of Spence's frustration isn't exactly aimed at you, but you're the only one he can take it out on. Remember he tried it with Frankie at the start, and that didn't work," Grace said. "He needed another outlet for that anger."

"Me," Boyd stated. "Because I can take it."

Grace nodded again. "I think so, yes."

"And with this case in particular? What was his problem with that?"

"Use your head, Boyd. When you met Spence, you were a DS, yes?"

"That's right."

"So it must have been about the time Clair Delaney was abducted?" Grace asked.

Boyd sipped his coffee. "Yes."

"You didn't tell Spencer about it," Grace replied. "Not at the time, not afterwards. As well as being his boss, he also considers you something of a friend, or an extended family member. In a way, we're all each other's family; you, me, Mel, Frankie, and Spencer. You didn't tell him and he's hurt."

"I didn't tell you," Boyd pointed out.

"Yes, but I've known you an awful lot longer than Spence has," Grace replied. "I see things, especially where you're concerned, very differently. Boyd, Spence has put you up on a pedestal, probably because you're one of the few officers who have given him a good break and will help him rise through the ranks. He idolises you, and that makes your omission about your involvement in the original investigation of Thomas Rice all the worse for Spencer." She paused, debating whether to add her next comment or not, and when she did, it was spoken in almost a whisper. "Besides, we weren't talking at the time, remember?"

Boyd was quiet for a long time. "You think so?" he asked after a while, ignoring her last words, though he heard them.

Grace smiled. "Don't let it go to your head, Boyd."

"I'm not," he assured her. "It's just…strange. No one's ever looked up to me before."

"No?"

"I'm not exactly role model material, Grace."

She smiled at him. "That depends on what you want from a role model."

"You know, there's room on that pedestal for two," Boyd said, his eyes twinkling. "I'll get lonely on my own."

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*Deathwatch, September 2002*

It had taken her a while, but Grace was once again happy in her own home. Whenever she felt uncomfortable, she just thought of the way Boyd had marched through the house and come straight to her after she had been attacked. Grace remembered the way he had taken her hand, the way his fingers had brushed her forehead. Somehow, in those few seconds, the world had melted away and they were children again. She was surprised, and pleased, that Boyd's protectiveness over her hadn't diminished over the years. Despite the trials their friendship had endured, Grace knew that Boyd still cared deeply for her. She smiled as she remembered what Spencer had told her, after they arrested the man who had attacked her.

"What is it with you and Boyd?" Spencer had asked.

Grace looked at him, surprised. "I beg your pardon, Spence?"

"I've seen Boyd get riled with suspects before, but he was ready to kill this guy, literally."

"He's very protective of his team," Grace had replied, her tone light and neutral.

The team were aware that Boyd and Grace had known each other for a few years, and that their friendship was strong, but nobody understood just how deep things went between them or even suspected that they had such a long history. It was strange, but Grace could still remember looking at baby Boyd and poking him until he made a noise. At the time, Grace had thought it thoroughly unfair that he had made her cry, not the other way around; now she knew it was always meant to be that way.

There was a heavy knocking on the door, startling her out of her reverie. Fear started to well in her, and Grace found herself frozen. Then her mobile rang, and with a shaky hand, she looked at the name on the screen. Boyd.

"Hello?"

*"Are you going to let me in?"* he asked. *"It's bloody freezing out here tonight!"*

Grace laughed. "I think I'll leave you there."

*"I have wine."*

"Ah, the magic word." Still holding the phone, Grace walked down the hall and opened the front door. "Please come in," she said into her mobile, while looking Boyd in the eyes.

Boyd stared at her as he ended the call and slipped his phone back into his pocket. "Who did you think it was?"

"The devil."

"Not much difference." Boyd hung his coat up and handed her the bag he was carrying. As Grace took it, he pulled her towards him and kissed her cheek. "Happy birthday, Grace."

"A little late, Peter," she replied quietly.

"Better late than never."

"Very true. Come on, let's go and find a bottle opener," Grace said, taking Boyd by the hand and leading him into the kitchen.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*Special Relationship, October 2002*

When Boyd left his office to pursue his 'social life', Grace was glad her tone had been light enough, covering her real feelings. Walking back to her own office, keeping her eyes downcast, Grace hoped no one would talk to her. In that instant she wasn't sure she'd be able to keep her emotions in check; she was afraid that they were blazoned across her face like tattoos.

Closing her door and leaning against it, Grace took a deep breath before lowering the blinds that allowed her to see out into the squad room. She did not want to be disturbed unless in a real emergency. At least not until she'd sorted out the little problem that had suddenly arisen.

The mention of Jess Worrell's name had awoken something in Grace that she was unaccustomed to feeling, especially where Boyd was concerned. Jealousy, she had learnt, was an ugly emotion, one of the worst. And yet Grace found it coursing through her veins as thickly as her blood.

She sat down heavily on the couch. Why? Why was she now, after all this time, after all the years they had known each other, was she suddenly feeling jealous about Boyd's ex-girlfriend? When they had been younger, it never bothered her, and when, once upon a time, she and Boyd had been an item, it had been Grace's decision to break it off. A decision she had never once regretted. Until now.

Grace knew that Boyd had always carried a torch for her, even through his marriage, and it was true he had always held a special place in her heart. But she hadn't thought about him as anything more than a friend for almost thirty five years. It was crazy that she should start now.

But Grace was a psychologist, and she knew that the jealousy which had reared its head was real enough, and she knew it wasn't going to go away in a hurry. With stark and sudden realisation, Grace found her jealousy stemmed from one simple fact: she had always loved Boyd, she just wasn't prepared to follow through on those feelings, whereas Boyd had been willing to try.

And now he had finally buried those feelings. He now saw her the way she had always wanted him to; as nothing more than a friend. Closing her eyes, Grace dearly wished it wasn't so.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*Thin Air, November 2002*

Boyd heard Grace's words, heard himself reply, but his focus was on Clara and the look of hatred in her eyes. As he walked away, he was aware of the women's eyes on him, aware of Spencer talking to him, but he didn't acknowledge any of it. He just kept walking, hoping that by the time he came to a dead stop, he would be too numb to feel anything, the realisation of everything that had just happened too difficult for him to deal with. Finding a bench, Boyd sank wearily to it and rubbed his face. He would have a bruise there for sure. He shook his head. He was definitely getting too old to be punched and pushed around physically.

For a while, Boyd just sat there, staring out over Hampstead Heath, and tried to let go of the case, but it was like a vice, gripping him, refusing to let him forget it. Benjamin Gold would haunt him for some time to come, Boyd knew, because in him, the policeman had seen a ghost of himself, a dark shadow of what Boyd could become if he let himself. It was an ugly, black side to Boyd that he always kept hidden, but he knew it was there, he could feel it, and it scared the hell out of him. Grace always thought his anger and his inability to express himself or his emotions were the problem. If only she knew how wrong she was. And Boyd knew it was pointless to try and convince himself he hadn't always been like that; even as a child, he was broody, with no apparent reason. It was just part of his makeup.

"Is this seat taken?"

Boyd knew she was approaching before she arrived, before she had even spoken. The soft sound of her footsteps, the smell of her perfume…every small thing about Grace was irrevocably imprinted on his senses. Sometimes he felt like he had been born into the world that day, and for a split second, Boyd was able to conceive just what an astonishing achievement his and Grace's relationship was.

"No."

"You solved the case, and you're still not preening around like an arsehole," Grace said as she sat down.

"Tell Frankie not to share information like that again," Boyd replied without cracking a smile.

Grace sighed. "You did good, Boyd. But you also did bad."

"Grace, please, don't lecture me," Boyd said wearily.

She held her hands up. "Alright." Then she turned and looked at him properly. "No. I can see there's no need to." She turned back to stare out over the Heath, unknowingly gazing at the same spot in the distance as Boyd. "We always assume parents want the best for their children and will do anything to protect them. We never think, not even for a moment, how those values can be twisted."

"Sometimes it's just not that easy," he replied bitterly.

"I know."

"Christ, Grace, I'm sorry." Boyd ran a hand through his hair. "Sometimes I forget."

"I know," she repeated, squeezing his arm. "Benjamin raised David as his own, knowing he wasn't, and the family is…or was still together. It makes you wonder where we went wrong."

Boyd turned. "Don't you ever hear from your kids?"

"That's the problem, Peter, they were never my kids." Grace sighed. "I did, last Christmas."

"What about your birthday?"

She shook her head. Without hesitating, Boyd wrapped an arm around her shoulders, but didn't pull her to him. He just held her, comforting her in silence. He knew he had the perfect opportunity to talk about his missing son, but Joe had been absent from his life for so long, Boyd was beginning to forget what it was like to have a son. And he knew that so often all he did was talk about Joe; it was time for him to listen for a change, if Grace wanted to talk.

After a while, Boyd stirred them both. "Come on, I'll buy you an ice cream."

"Cheap skate," Grace replied. As they headed off across the Heath, she linked her arm with his, the case slowly falling behind them.

TBC


	4. Interlude - Season 2 to 3

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*December 2002*

The now somewhat traditional Christmas get together, if two previous such events could be classed as a tradition, was Grace's idea that year. In fact, she insisted upon it and no one, not even Boyd, had the heart, or the courage, to refuse. But it was an awkward affair. The Joanna Gold case still loomed largely in their world, obscuring their views, and making them forget all about the meaning of Christmas. Frankie in particular seemed to take Boyd's reckless behaviour to heart; Spencer and Mel seemed to have gotten over it, for the most part. After they had eaten, the 'kids' quickly retreated to the kitchen to wash up, and as Grace observed Boyd while they were alone, she could see he was looking for a quick getaway. Unfortunately, she wasn't about to give him one.

"It's snowing," Grace stated quite calmly.

Boyd looked mildly surprised. "And?"

"You're not leaving."

Now he scowled. "You can't…."

"Actually you'll find I can," she interrupted him, her tone mild. "In fact, I'm keeping you all here until you sort yourselves out."

Boyd's face darkened. "I will not…."

"You were wrong and you know it." Once again, Grace cut across him. "We all know. All you need to do is admit it."

"I will not…," Boyd tried again.

"No one is asking you to apologise," she said wearily. "Although you know saying sorry doesn't mean you're wrong, it just means you're sorry."

"But I was wrong."

"Yes, I know, and simply saying that will make things a hell of a lot easier for all of us." Grace sighed. "Boyd, I'm trying to…."

"Help. Yes, I know," he said. "You do it a lot."

"Well?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No."

"Didn't think so." Boyd sighed loudly. "Fine, fine. Get the kids in here."

"Spence! Frankie! Mel!" Grace shouted.

"How come I always get shouted last?" Mel asked as she walked into the room.

Spencer grinned at her. "Because you're the youngest."

"Shut up. Sit down," Boyd said, his voice rumbling around the room. They all shut and sat. "Now I'm only going to say this once, and that goes for all future incidents such as these. I was wrong in what I did and I know it. I made a mistake; it wasn't the first and it won't be the last, though I hope one day I'll learn not to make them."

"No one's perfect, Boyd," Frankie said, venturing to speak first as she had taken his lapse in judgement hardest. "Well, except for me."

Spencer laughed. "Don't you mean me?"

"Actually, I think you'll find that *I'm* perfect," Mel told them.

Boyd shook his head. "There's only one person in this room who can lay claim to that label." His eyes held Grace's, who coloured beautifully.

"Hardly," she said, her voice shaking with embarrassment.

"For once, I agree with Boyd," Spencer replied, and raised his can of beer. "To Grace."

"To Grace," the others chorused.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*April 2003*

He was withdrawing from her. It wasn't obvious, and she wasn't even sure he was aware he was doing it, but nevertheless, he was withdrawing. Their easy banter and flirtatious comments had grown progressively more stilted, the occasions they enjoyed them growing few and far between. And Grace didn't know why it was happening. When she and Boyd stopped talking, it was her decision, but that didn't mean it was any easier for her. Of course during that time he had withdrawn, but that was the nature of the situation. This was entirely different. He was pulling away, specifically away from her, and all she could do was watch, though it ripped at her heart.

Grace's feelings Boyd had always been a grey area, the years having blurred her emotions into something akin to a gelatinous mass. At times she thought she loved him; other times she really did not like him. Sometimes he was just someone she worked with, and other times he was her best friend again. She had always thought it would never be too late for anything, providing she worked out how she felt about him, and what she wanted from him. Now Grace was beginning to think she had missed something somewhere, that Boyd's change in behaviour was his way of telling her that their boat had sailed while they were still on the shore, and opposing sides, no less.

There was no point in trying to talk to any of the team about Boyd. Spencer wouldn't want to know, and neither would Mel. And Frankie wouldn't notice any change in Boyd, unless, of course, he suddenly started being nice. Anyone would notice that. There was, though, the possibility that Grace was just reading too much into everything. She knew first hand how stressful their job was, and how to heart Boyd took the cases. She knew he was still consumed by guilt and worry over the disappearance of his son. She knew all these things…except why things had changed between them.

The worst part was that Grace knew if she asked Boyd about it, he wouldn't have any idea what she was talking about. So maybe it was all just in her imagination. Maybe.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*July 2003*

Boyd slammed the door to his office and leant against it, sighing with barely concealed rage. He hated cases that involved children, of any age; he always felt they were a personal affront to him as a father. And while everything had, for once, turned alright with the case they had just finished, Boyd couldn't help but wonder what Joe was doing, or even if he was still alive. Had he straightened himself out? Gone to college, perhaps even university? Did he have a steady job, marriage…kids of his own, even at twenty? Boyd shook his head. It wasn't worth thinking about.

A knock on the door he was leaning on didn't even surprise him, and without turning to see who it was, he called, "Leave me alone, Grace!" There was an edge to his voice, too much vehemence in the tone, but he didn't care. Grace would understand, she always did.

But when she didn't knock again, Boyd started to worry. It was a holding pattern they had developed over the years; she tried to help, he pushed her away, she kept trying until he gave in. If Grace had given up on him….

Turning, he yanked the door open and stuck his head out into the squad room. *"Grace!"* he yelled at the top of his voice.

She appeared in her own doorway, arms crossed, frowning in despair, mixed with something he couldn't quite put his finger, at him. "What, Boyd?"

"I thought you'd gone," he said lamely.

Grace barked a short, harsh laugh. "Where would I go?"

Boyd stared at her. Obviously something was wrong, but he was damned if he knew what it was. "Did you knock?"

"It doesn't matter." With that, Grace turned and walked back into her office.

But Boyd wasn't fobbed off so easily. With a frown that mirrored Grace's, he followed her, shutting her office door behind him. He sat on the couch and waited for her to acknowledge his presence, and when that didn't happen, he spoke.

"Something's obviously bothering you, but I have no idea what it is, so you'll have to tell me," Boyd said quietly. "Is it something I've done?"

"The world doesn't revolve around you, Boyd," Grace replied equally as quietly.

"I never thought it did. I just recognise that expression. I should, I've had it pointed in my direction enough times over the years."

Grace took her glasses off and folded her arms. "It won't make any difference if I tell you."

"Try," Boyd said.

"I feel like after all these years, you're pushing me away, and I don't know why."

Boyd looked genuinely surprised. "Am I?"

"I feel like it." Grace shrugged. "I could be wrong."

"It wouldn't be the first time."

Grace glared at him. "I hope, for your sake, you were joking."

"No," Boyd replied.

"Boyd, I'm tired of doing *this* with you! I don't want to argue any more!"

He held his hands up. "I *was* joking, Grace." He paused and looked fractionally worried. "I thought you knew that?"

"No, I didn't," she told him quietly.

"I see." Another long pause. "Grace, I…."

"I know, I know, you don't mean to do it. But be careful, Peter. One day you'll push too far and you'll push me away," she said softly. "And I won't come back."

Boyd's gut reaction was to turn the conversation into an argument, but he saw it would be childish and made a huge effort to quash his temper. Instead, he just nodded. "Okay. Warning understood." He glanced at his watch. "How about we skive off early and go for a drink?"

"Just us?" Grace asked, surprised.

"Unless you want to invite the rest of the team."

"Do you?"

"I asked you first."

Grace thought about it. "We'll go out first and call them in about half an hour."

Boyd grinned. "Good idea."

TBC


	5. Season 3

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*Multistorey, September 2003*

Boyd looked up to see Grace stood in the doorway of his office. "You're going to lecture me, aren't you?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I wouldn't waste my breath. I was simply going to remind you of a little speech you made last Christmas."

Boyd frowned. "I didn't…."

"'I was wrong in what I did and I know it. I made a mistake; it wasn't the first and it won't be the last, though I hope one day I'll learn not to make them'," Grace quoted.

"You have an unhealthily good memory," Boyd said in a flat tone.

"I know," Grace replied mildly, her words carrying so many layers of meaning.

"I never said when I would learn," Boyd told her, and *his* words clearly indicated the conversation was over. Sighing softly, Grace turned and walked back to her own office.

*_*_*_*_*

Once again, the case went to prove Grace didn't know Boyd as well as she thought she did, and once again, that realisation hurt. She knew all about the Whitewater Massacre, knew Nick Patterson had died, and if she had really wanted to, she could have found out whether Boyd knew him or not. Her own connections in the police force at the time of the incident were quite extensive, but she hadn't bothered to use them. Grace knew why. If she had known then that Boyd had known Patterson….

She stopped, memories flooding her senses. She *did* know that Boyd knew Patterson. Even though their friendship was at a weak point at the time, with Boyd training to be a police officer and Grace away at university, but during their infrequent correspondence, she remembered Boyd mentioning someone called Nick. Cold seeped into her body, pooling like ice in her stomach. How could she have forgotten that? No wonder Boyd acted like he had during the case, and all Grace had done was to criticise him. Understandably, perhaps, but as his oldest friend, she should have known better. Once again, she didn't, and the rift that had been growing just got that little bit bigger.

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*Walking On Water, November 2003*

As soon as his phone started ringing, Boyd knew who it was; Grace had the most persistent ring he'd ever known. But even if he had wanted to answer, he couldn't. The shock of what just happened had numbed him to the bone, and it took all his effort to move to make sure Mel was alright.

Back in her office, Grace put the phone down with annoyance. Boyd was ignoring her, she was sure of it. All because he thought she was 'too sensitive'. She gripped her hands in frustration. Sometimes she wondered if Boyd remembered they had been friends for over fifty years or not. Deciding that enough was enough, and that she would tear a strip off him when he returned, whether the others were there or not, Grace finally left her office and went to see Frankie.

"Hi, Grace," Frankie said as the profiler entered the lab.

"Hi, Frankie."

"Oh dear. What's happened?"

"Oh, nothing. Just…Boyd, you know?" Grace replied.

Frankie nodded. "Yeah, I know exactly what you mean."

"F.D.?" Grace asked, looking at the rubbing Frankie had done. "As in Fin Dawley?"

The scientist shrugged. "If you say so. Boyd seemed to think it was significant anyway. Is that why?"

"Probably. The problem is, I think Mark Lovell figured out who was behind the murders."

"Fin?" Frankie asked.

Grace nodded. "But I can't get hold of Boyd. I think he's ignoring me."

"He's probably just busy," she tried to assure the profiler. "Come on, let's get some coffee. I need to get out of here for a while."

Grace looked surprised. Normally it took a team of horses, or the prospect of free food, to get Frankie out of the lab. "Are you okay?"

The pathologist nodded. "Yeah, just this case, you know? Three generations of one family killed like this…what a way to go. Not that there's a good way to go, but…."

"No, I know what you mean." Grace's expression turned thoughtful. "That little cake shop down the road is open. Buy you something high calorie and full of chocolate?"

"I'll race you there."

By the time they returned to the office, Grace was feeling a lot more relaxed and had almost forgotten about her problem with Boyd. Until she set eyes on the man himself. Her rage came to boil again so quickly that she didn't take stock of Boyd's stiff posture or how close he was to Mel.

"You know, Frankie," Grace started in a loud, sarcastic voice, missing the look the pathologist gave her, "It's nice when we all work as a team. When everyone listens to each other and no one gets ignored. After all, it's not like I had anything important to say. I never have anything important to say."

Boyd turned slowly and deliberately, giving Grace plenty of time to see the expression his face and the blood on Mel's. His eyes locked with the profiler and he stared for a long hard time before turning back to his task; cleaning the residue of Fin Dawley from Mel's face.

"Oh my God," Frankie exclaimed, rushing to her friend's side. "What happened? Are you okay, Mel?"

The DC nodded. "I'm fine."

"Boyd?"

"It's not mine," he replied. "It's Fin Dawley's. He's dead. Shot, probably by someone we'll never find and on Mark Lovell's say so, though we'll never be able to prove it. And to be perfectly honest with you, I don't care. It's not our responsibility any more."

Frankie just nodded in agreement. "But you're both alright," she stated, though it sounded like a question.

Boyd didn't reply, but Mel nodded back, carefully so she didn't disturb the DSI's ministrations. "There," he said quietly. "All clean. Except for your hair." He smiled gently. "You can do that yourself."

Mel's replying smile was thankful but weary, and it was clear she was still in a little bit of shock. Frankie touched her arm. "Come on, I'll give you a lift home." She glanced at Boyd for consent and he nodded. Wordlessly, Frankie led Mel from the room.

"Boyd, I…," Grace started.

"Don't."

"But…."

"You jumped to conclusions. It happens, even to the best of us." There was a harsh, sarcastic edge to Boyd's words.

"I'm too sensitive, right?" Grace replied, her tone equally as mocking.

Boyd ran a hand through his hair and suddenly began pacing. "For God's sake, Grace, I've just seen a guy get his face blown off! Cut me a little slack, yeah?"

The profiler's expression softened immediately and she spread her hands. "I'm sorry."

Boyd leant heavily against the desk. "Mel was escorting the guy."

"Shit."

"Exactly." Boyd closed his eyes, but even without looking, he knew Grace was now stood right in front of him, within touching distance. Slowly he extended his arm a little and within seconds, Grace had hold of his hand.

Spencer had passed Mel and Frankie in the corridor and received the short version of the day's events from them, and he was heading to the squad room to get the full version from Boyd. But upon rounding the corner, and seeing Boyd and Grace as they were, he decided it could wait until later. Things had been so tense between them lately that it was good to see them getting along for a change, and while Spencer knew it couldn't last, he was happy to let them enjoy the moment.

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*Breaking Glass, November 2003*

Although Boyd knew Grace could probably use some comforting after watching Jonathan plunge to his death, he couldn't give it to her, couldn't make sure she was alright. All he could think about was his son, Joe, and the pain the memories brought caused him to all but flee the scene.

*"I hate you!"*

The words Joe had screamed at him the last time Boyd saw his son still haunted him. He had spent many restless nights wondering what fate had befallen Joe, and the dark hours of the early morning were accompanied by dark thoughts. Was Joe doing well, or did he have to scrape a living selling himself? Was he being looked after or used? The thought of someone, of a man, doing…. Boyd clenched his fists, his nostrils flaring, white rage descending like a heavy curtain over his vision. Taking several deep breaths, he made an effort to calm himself. He wanted to find his son, he kept telling himself that, but how much effort had he really put into doing just that? The answer was a stark 'not a lot'. But then he had been busy working.

Self-loathing threatened to choke Boyd as he reminded himself how all his problems had started in the first place. Work. The one thing he was good at, that he enjoyed, but that also took up most of his time and occupied most of his waking thoughts, and some sleeping ones too. Work. The one thing that kept him sane, but also drove him crazy. Work. The one thing that brought him closer to Grace, and also tore them apart. Work. It was destined to destroy every relationship in Boyd's life, and probably his life itself, not to mention the lives of the people whose cases he got involved with. Some days he wondered why he carried on doing the job.

Today was one of them.

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*Final Cut, December 2003*

Sometime after Mrs Baptiste's visit, Boyd sidled into Grace's office. "Yes?" she asked as she looked up, trying her best not to laugh. She knew the situation was serious, and Spencer's behaviour was a cause for concern for both of them, but still….

Boyd watched her silently for a time. When he finally spoke, his voice was low. "If you *ever* tell *anybody* about that, I will never forgive you."

Grace looked surprised. "You want me to lie in my report?"

Boyd continued to stare. "I'm serious, Grace. If I find one mention of 'Moses' or 'hugging' in your report, you'll be in serious trouble."

"Alright, Boyd, but only this once," she replied with a straight face. Once he had left her office, however, Grace buried her face into her hands and laughed harder than she had for a long time.

*_*_*_*_*

It was clear that Grace meant business as she left her office. Boyd could tell because of the set of her shoulders, and the bottle of wine she was carrying. It seemed so long ago that they shared a drink; so long ago since either of them had even suggested the idea, whether they followed through on it or not. And now, the mere prospect of having a drink with his friend made Boyd nervous. Usually when Grace came into his office after hours, especially armed with wine, it meant she wanted to do some serious talking. And if he was honest with himself, serious talking was the last thing he wanted to do after the case they had just finished.

It had dragged so many memories up, not only for Spencer, but for Boyd as well. When Vincent Peverell had tried to buy him, Boyd had been insulted as well as shocked, though it wasn't the first time something like that had happened to him. Eddie Vine had tried something similar not long before, and Boyd had started to think there was something wrong with him. Either he looked like a copper who was open to bribes - and that thought made him sick to his stomach - or he was a challenge to them because they saw him as incorruptible. Boyd always found it amusing in an odd way. He bent and broke the rules left, right and centre, yet he had never taken a bribe. It was no wonder he didn't make or keep friends easily; no one could really understand him.

And then, of course, there was everything Spencer had been through, discovering his father was still alive and the reason he had to 'disappear' in the first place amongst everything else. Boyd dragged a hand wearily over his face. He was proud of the way Spencer handled himself in the end, though he'd never tell him that. But now all Boyd wanted to do was go home.

"Hi," Grace said, knocking on the door. "Can I come in?"

"Grace, I'm really tired," Boyd replied.

She just nodded. "I thought you might be. I brought this in case, but…. Well, it doesn't matter."

Boyd sighed. "Was there something you wanted?" he asked.

"Actually, there was." Grace set the bottle on the table and sat on the couch. "Why didn't you tell me about Peverell?"

"We weren't talking."

"Which brings me to something else."

Boyd frowned. "Go on."

"My mother…you mentioned her…." Grace shook her head. "I don't understand you sometimes, Boyd."

He grunted. "Well, there's no hope for anyone else then, is there?"

"Why keep our friendship a secret and then go and mention something like that?" she asked.

"It's no one else's business how long we've known each other, Grace," he replied. "I thought we agreed on that. And besides, they didn't think it was an odd comment for me to make, so I don't know why you're worried."

"No, they didn't notice anything," Grace said. "And neither did you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Boyd groaned. "Grace, I'm tired. Very tired."

"My mother's dead, Peter," she told him quietly. "She has been for quite a long time now."

Boyd simply stared. "Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded after a while.

Grace smiled sadly. "We weren't talking. Actually, that was how I met James. He was at the graveyard visiting his wife while I was visiting my mother." Her smile changed, though it was still tinged with sadness. "I thought he was you."

Boyd rose stiffly, crossed the room and sank onto the couch next to her. "I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago."

"But still…."

"You lost your mother as well?" Grace asked.

Boyd nodded. "In the same year I married Mary and we had Joe."

"Busy year."

"There've been a few of those."

"Tell me about it."

"So," Boyd said after a few minutes of comfortable silence, "Is that bottle going to sit there unopened all night?"

"I thought you were tired?" Grace asked, amused.

"I don't think I could sleep anyway."

"Me either. So, where's your bottle opener?"

TBC


	6. Interlude - Season 3 to 4

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*January 2004*

Impatience was often said to be a trait of the young, but, Boyd mused, he still suffered from the affliction and he was a good deal older than Spencer. But still, the young DS needed to calm down a little, otherwise he would find himself in a far worse position than Boyd had ever been. When he was an up-and-coming policeman, it didn't matter if you were a little rough around the edges, and Boyd was certainly that. But in the present climate, he reflected, you needed to be as smooth as a baby's arse, otherwise you'd never get anywhere. And smooth Spencer wasn't. Boyd wondered if that was partly his fault, his influence, his brashness rubbing off onto the DS. He hoped not.

Before the car had stopped, Spencer had spilled out and was running to the door of the house, determined, Boyd knew, to catch the rapist before he escaped, and if he wasn't home, find some sort of evidence to incriminate him.

"Spence, wait!" Boyd yelled, hurrying to catch his colleague.

Spencer faced him, his expression one of barely controlled fury. "Sir, if we don't do this now, we may never get another chance! This...*man* has been praying on victims for almost thirty years, and now he's on the verge of disappearing again!" He turned back to the door, preparing to break it down, but stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Believe me, I understand how you feel, but this isn't the way," Boyd replied in his deep voice. "You don't have a warrant, for starters..."

"That wouldn't stop you!"

"...And you've got your promotion to think of." Boyd let his hand drop, and wondered how best to reach Spencer on a personal level. "I'm at the top of my game. I've reached a good rank, I'm head of a special unit; I'm there. If they fire me...well, so what? But you've got your whole career ahead of you, so don't throw it away on something stupid like this." He straightened to his full height. "I have the authority, and that means responsibility. I won't let you do this and lose your promotion. So step aside, or I'll move you myself."

*_*_*_*_*

The black cloud above Spencer's head was visible a mile away, announcing his and Boyd's return to the unit before they actually arrived.

"No luck, then?" Grace asked mildly. Spencer stalked around the room a few times before heading out towards the lab. Frowning, she turned to Boyd, only to discover he had retreated into his office and closed the door.

"Did we miss something?" Mel asked.

Grace looked at her. "It would appear so. I'll be right back." She knocked on Boyd's door, entered his office, and went straight to his couch. "Do you want to...?"

"No."

"What happened?"

Boyd looked up. "He wasn't there and we didn't find anything."

"You entered his house without a warrant?" Grace asked in a disappointed tone. "Boyd."

"How else are we supposed to catch him, Grace?" Boyd replied.

"Did you think about how it might affect Spence's promotion?" Grace shook her head when he didn't respond. "No, of course you didn't. Honestly, Boyd, when are you going to learn to think of others?"

He wanted to tell her she was wrong, make her see just how wrong she was, not just about Spencer's anger, but about him; about everything. But he didn't. "It'll be fine," Boyd said lamely.

"I hope so, for your sake," Grace replied, standing and leaving.

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*April 2004*

It was a rare moment of peace and quiet and Grace was determined to enjoy it. So much had happened that she needed moments like this more and more just so she could make sense of the madness. The team was working better and better with each passing month and each case they solved, but her and Boyd's relationship seemed to be suffering more and more with the same amount of time passing. It was ridiculous, after all the years they had known each other, that the highs seemed to be getting higher, while the lows were lower, and Grace couldn't help but wonder when they were going to reach rock bottom. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on her breathing instead of rehashing old thoughts; she couldn't make sense of when things changed anyway, no matter how hard she tried.

In his office, Boyd was doing the same, enjoying the peace and quiet, but his mood was tinged with a mixed sense of elation and worry. Elated that he had salvaged Spencer's career with his heroic gesture, worried that he hadn't been disciplined himself. Not that he wanted to be, but it just seemed his luck that some sort of action would be taken against him. However, almost four months had passed and as Boyd's head was still firmly attached to his shoulders, he thought he was safe. But Spencer still hadn't heard anything about his promotion, which wasn't good; Boyd had the feeling it was a lose-lose situation, and he hated it.

He let his thoughts drift to Grace, who he knew was sat across the hall in her own office, but who he had no intention of disturbing. He didn't think she would mind, but on the other hand he wasn't exactly sure. Although he wasn't a subtle man, and not very good at picking up undercurrents or hints about other people's behaviours, he had the feeling something was shifting within his and Grace's friendship. It wasn't the first time Boyd had felt that way, and he was certain it wouldn't be the last, but he had no idea how to broach the subject. And if he couldn't talk to her, his oldest friend, what hope did he have of ever sorting his problems out?

Grace couldn't concentrate on her breathing. Her mind refused to quieten down and behave itself, and she found her thoughts turning to last Christmas. It had been a quiet affair, with Spencer spending it with his parents, and Frankie and Mel declaring they wanted a girly day. Grace was a little hurt that they hadn't invited her to their little party, but at the same time she was grateful because she got to spend the day with Boyd. And although they had plenty of opportunity, they didn't talk much, just basked in each other's company. It was like a balm to her soul as she thought about the turmoil from the previous year, and with that thought, she dreaded what the current year might bring.

Unbeknownst to Grace, Boyd was thinking along the same lines, thinking how nice it had been just the two of them. Although their Christmas arrangement wasn't exactly long standing, it had felt a little strange without the rest of the team there, but he was hardly going to begrudge Spencer the chance to spend the time with his father, especially after the DS had lived so long thinking his father was dead. And as for Frankie and Mel, Boyd surprisingly did understand the need for the girls to spend time alone, though he couldn't shake a nagging feeling they had just wasted their last chance to spend Christmas together as a 'family'. Of course, if he had mentioned such things to Grace, she would only have launched into a gushing speech about how he had a nurturing, paternal role within the team, despite his gruff nature, and Boyd didn't think he could have stomached so much praise in one go.

But Grace was also suffering from the same premonitions, but she put her feelings down to the simple fact that so far, the team had been lucky. With the way they conducted themselves, the amount of toes they had tread on in almost four years, and the volume of people they had upset generally, she was surprised that tragedy had not befallen them sooner. But despite everything, Grace kept in mind that Christmas. The way Boyd had sprawled on her couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his glass of wine held negligently in his hand; the way he appeared to be relaxed. And then Grace too had relaxed, putting her feet up on his lap, ignoring his exaggerated face-pulling that suggested they smelled.

The phone ringing made her almost fall out of her chair and she leant forward, quickly grasping it from its cradle. "Hello?"

*"I just wanted to say...thank you."*

Grace was amused, but she didn't turn. "For what, Boyd?" she asked.

*"For Christmas,"* Boyd replied after a beat. *"For...being. For..."* She heard him swallow. "...Staying."

Grace felt a lump in her own throat, and once more she marvelled at the miracle that was her friendship with Boyd. "You're welcome." Another pause, and then the phone went dead, but she didn't mind. They didn't need to say anything else to each other.

TBC


	7. Season 4

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*In Sight Of The Lord, June 2004*

"...I was just being polite to an old man," Boyd was saying as he and Grace entered the lab. "I just can't get it right with you; if I'm hard on him, you don't like it, if I'm soft on him, you don't like it..."

"That's because you go to extremes, Boyd," Grace interrupted. "You always have. When you're soft, you're *too* soft, and when you're hard...."

"Wouldn't be much good if I was soft," he muttered.

Luckily Frankie hadn't heard the exchange, nor did she see Grace blush, which was a good job really. The pathologist already had her own opinion about their relationship, and any more fuel to the flames of her theory would have turned it into a raging forest fire.

*_*_*_*_*

Some time after the rather interesting discussion in the lab about nails, Grace sidled into Boyd's office and deliberately left the door open. "So, you think you're onto a theory with the nails?" she asked.

Boyd looked up from his computer. "What do you mean?"

"You know, them being nine inches and all," Grace replied, her eyes sparkling.

Boyd wondered where she was leading, but decided to play along. "Well, Grace, it's certainly a factor. You should know."

"You can't be talking about yourself, then."

*"Grace!"*

The exclamation did not, as one might expect, come from Boyd; he was simply staring in horror at her blatant attack on his...on him. The utterance of total shock came from Mel, who had the great misfortune of passing by at that time.

Grace looked at the DS innocently. "What? I don't need first hand experience to make that leap."

"AH!" Mel clapped her hands over her ears and ran away.

"What's going on?" Spencer asked, coming into the squad room having returned from the lab.

"You do *not* want to know," Mel told him firmly.

"We were talking about...," Grace started.

"Nails," Boyd finished, startling her with his proximity.

Grace turned to grin at him. "Exactly."

*_*_*_*_*

Boyd looked at Spencer. "And when you came across Taylor's army file, did it say anything about him being a conscientious objector?

"No... Are we still pursuing that?" the DS asked

"Well, I'm keeping an open mind, you know. I mean, we'll stick with it a bit longer until I say...," Boyd said, trailing off a little as though he was waiting for something.

"We're not going to stick with it," Grace interrupted, her tone knowing.

Boyd nodded. "Exactly." He looked at Spencer. "See, she knows."

Spencer prudently didn't ask *what* Grace knew, or even how she knew it. The way she and Boyd were at times freaked him out; it's like they were on the same wavelength, even finishing each other's sentences at times. He knew Frankie and Mel's theory about it; they had shared their thoughts despite his repeated protests he didn't *want* to know because he didn't want to spend the rest of his life in therapy. They told him anyway. But for Spencer, he didn't care about the reasons. He'd known Boyd a long time, and Grace as well, and to him, they just were. And as long as they weren't arguing, it was fine with him.

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*False Flag, June 2004*

When Maraid was talking about her son and her husband, bravery and the George Cross, Grace found her attention drawn towards the window and she stared down into the garden where Joe and Boyd were walking. They seemed to be engrossed in conversation, but suddenly they stopped, and without warning, Boyd turned and looked up to the window. His eyes locked with Grace's and all he could do for a moment was stare. There was something indecipherable about her expression, the look in her eyes something he wasn't really familiar with, her gaze piercing, as though she was seeing him clearly for the first time. But the moment was soon broken, and Boyd knew there would never be another like it.

*_*_*_*_*

"Why did you ask me if anyone had helped me with that damn questionnaire?" Boyd asked.

Grace turned to look at him, surprised. "What?"

"You heard me."

"Yes, but I'm wondering what the relevance is to what we were discussing."

"None." Boyd sipped his drink. "You know only you could help me with something like that."

"I know, but I thought I'd make sure," Grace replied.

"What? That you're still my best friend?"

"Am I really?"

"You sound surprised," Boyd said. "You also know that I *do* have trouble making and keeping friends, except for you. And I'll never understand why you stay, you know."

Grace looked at him. "It wouldn't help if I explained, either, would it?"

"Probably not," Boyd replied, his eyes sparkling. "But if you ever need an exercise in frustration, you could try."

"I have one of those every day I come to work," Grace said, smiling sweetly.

"You wound me."

"I haven't even started yet."

*_*_*_*_*

Boyd groaned loudly at the compliments Grace and Frankie threw at him as he went to open the door, purposefully, silently, telling them all to piss off and leave him alone with his paranoia for a while. It was an awkward few moments, explaining why the unit was under scrutiny. And after all he had done to protect Spencer, the DS's promotion has still been knocked back. Despite Grace and Frankie's genuine words, Boyd felt like shit. Sometimes he felt the job just wasn't worth doing.

But then as they all filed out, Grace touched his arm. It was a brief gesture, lasting not even mere seconds, but it was enough for Boyd to stop concentrating and start marvelling how Grace always seemed to know just what to do or say to make him more sure of himself. She always had done. Yet even now, after all the years they had known each other, Grace still underestimated him. Suddenly Boyd felt worse again. He wondered what he had done to make her doubt him so much, but found he really didn't want to know the answer. Besides, they still had a case to finish, and he couldn't afford any more time spent on private musings.

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*Fugue States, July 2004*

Boyd sat in the car, staring out at the canal as he waited for Grace. As with all cases that involved children, and especially missing sons, he was over eager to bring closure for all parties involved, but became increasingly morose when it was all over. Cases like the one they had just solved always touched a nerve within Boyd, always falling too close to home for comfort; too close to his own failures. He knew Jason wasn't his son, but the young man was still a missing son, like Joe, and Boyd felt an odd sense of kinship.

He was startled out of his thoughts by the passenger door slamming shut. "Sorry," Grace apologised when she saw his face. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Boyd replied. "Ready?"

"Ready."

He put the car in gear and drove off slowly, looking in his rear view mirror far more often than was necessary. Grace watched him out of the corner of her eye, wondering whether it would be a good idea to try and talk to him while he was driving.

"They'll be alright, you know," she said quietly. "Jason and Cindy, I mean."

Boyd nodded. "I know."

After a while, Grace turned in her seat to look at him. "What would you do if you ever found Joe?" she asked.

"You're assuming he's still alive."

"Aren't you?"

Boyd sighed. "No, Grace, I'm not. If he is, then where has he been all this time? With his track record, he'd have shown up in one police station or another by now, and if he had, I'd have found out."

"Boyd, there is as much chance of Joe being alive as there is of him being dead," Grace said firmly. "Don't give up hope, okay?" She reached over for his hand and gripped it.

"It's just...sometimes, Grace," Boyd replied softly, "It's not easy."

Grace sat back properly in her seat. "No, I imagine it isn't. You didn't answer my question, though."

Boyd sighed again, a deep, melancholy sound. "I don't know," he said, his tone honest and despairing. "I don't know."

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*Anger Management, July 2004*

As Grace pointed to the dummy, Frankie realised what she was talking about. "Oh, him. Yeah, well, at least he doesn't say too much."

"His feet don't smell either," Grace remarked, and Frankie laughed in reply. The doors to the lab swished open and both women turned to see Boyd walk in. "Talking of smelly feet..."

Frankie looked sharply at Grace. How the hell would she know if Boyd's feet smelt or not? Unless... It was certainly a theory between her and Mel that there was a lot more going on with Boyd and Grace than simply being colleagues; they just hadn't figured out what yet. But she stored the feet comment away for a later date to share with Mel. She was certain that between the two of them, they would figure it all out before long.

*_*_*_*_*

Boyd looked at Grace before he finished his sentence. "...Unless he wants to be found out."

They both spoke at the same time, in perfect unison, and it couldn't have worked better if they'd rehearsed it. As Grace smiled at him, Boyd found himself smiling back, and for that one moment they were how they were supposed to be, how they had been so often before, but not so much recently. And for that one moment, the outside world ceased to exist. The other members of the team weren't there, and so wrapped up in each other's gaze were Grace and Boyd that they didn't even notice the surreptitious looks shared between the others. It was, for several seconds, perfect. He wondered why it couldn't be that way all the time.

But eventually, one of them knew they had to break the moment and speak. "There's an echo in here," Boyd said.

*_*_*_*_*

"Okay," Grace said, walking out of Boyd's office. She had come over to discuss the case, and he had told her politely but firmly to go away because he was busy. But she paused in the doorway and Boyd had a pretty good idea what was going to come next. "The Tempest, Boyd? Seriously?"

Boyd simply grinned in reply. "Shakespeare. Of course."

Grace nodded in understanding, recalling their conversation from earlier when they were at the site of the shooting victim. "What did your therapist say about that?"

"That I was there to please someone else instead of being there because I identified with a problem I had," Boyd replied honestly.

"Yep, that definitely sounds like counsellor-speak," Grace said, smiling. Then she went back to her office.

Moments later, the phone rang. "Boyd," he answered.

*"The Tempest? Seriously?"*

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "You have a calming effect on me, Grace. Besides, it's not me reciting the words; it's you. In my head, anyway. I imagine you at university on the stage..."

The line went dead.

*_*_*_*_*

"Boyd."

*"Are you...?"*

"I'm fine, Grace. He wouldn't have killed me."

*"You don't know...."*

"He asked my first name. I became a person to him, not just a target."

*"But still...."*

"How did you find out? No, wait, Spence."

*"Of course. He's...."*

"I don't need anyone to worry about me, Grace. Thank you. I'm fine."

*"Well, if...."*

"Yes, I know where you are."

*"Are you sure...?"*

"Bye, Grace."

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*The Hardest Word, August 2004*

Boyd sat staring at the ground, idly aware of his breath coming out in icy wisps against the black night. His gloved hands gripped the chains as he moved backwards and forwards slightly, his mind mulling over the case they had just finished. He knew from experience that sorry was indeed the hardest word, not just to say, but to mean as well.

"Of all the places you could be, Boyd, why here?" Grace asked as she approached him, shivering and pulling her coat more tightly around her.

Boyd shrugged as he started to swing a little higher. "Memories."

"We were fourteen."

"I tried to push you off the swing."

"You then made me fall off the roundabout."

Grace smiled as she sat on the swing next to Boyd, facing in the opposite direction, and began moving backwards and forward slowly. "Seriously, Boyd, why here?"

"Why not?" he replied.

"There are plenty of other places with swings."

"Memories."

Grace sighed. "You said that once already. Honestly, it's like pulling teeth with you sometimes, Boyd."

"I was thinking about Greta," Boyd said eventually.

"I should have known," Grace replied rather bitingly. "Are you going to see her again?"

"I've always had a roving eye, Grace, you know that," he told her, smiling a little.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I know."

"What I said when Greta first walked into the office...."

"You were just you being you." Grace sighed again. "I know."

Boyd stopped moving and looked at her. "Not exactly. Do you remember what I said in your office?"

Grace glared at him. "Boyd, if I can remember what happened almost forty years ago, I can certainly remember the beginning of this case." She turned away. "You said you didn't know they made them that young." The bitterness in her voice was clear.

"I couldn't exactly say 'bloody hell, she looks like you', could I?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I remember you in your twenties, Grace," Boyd said softly. "There are differences between you and Greta, but my first impression when she walked in was that I was looking at you twenty odd years ago."

"I had no idea you found me attractive back then, Boyd," Grace replied in surprise.

"We did date when we were eighteen, or have you forgotten?"

"I do try to." Grace smiled. "I suppose it was only like me asking who the boy in the photo was. I mean, I couldn't exactly say 'my God, you were never that young, Boyd', could I?"

Boyd smiled back. "No, I suppose not."

"Now what are you thinking?"

"Life was simpler back then."

Grace laughed. "It's always the same. Anything else?"

"I'm glad there's no roundabout," Boyd replied.

"Anything else?"

Boyd stood up and shoved his hands deep into his coat pocket. "Fancy an ice cream?"

Grace smiled and stood as well. "Are you paying?"

"I think I can manage it."

"Go on then."

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*Shadowplay, August 2004*

Boyd wrote Mel's name, in capitals, on the board very slowly, his mind numb. Everything had changed. To lose any member of a team was bad enough, but to lose one so suddenly was a shock to the system. And to compound matters, it was Boyd's car Mel had bounced off. Boyd didn't think it could get any worse, but apparently it could. As soon as she had arrived back at the office, Frankie had declared she wanted to transfer out of the unit. She gave no reason to anyone, not even Grace or Spencer, and she left work again not long after. Spencer too had gone home, leaving Boyd alone in the office.

As he drew a square around Mel's name, he thought he saw her smiling reflection in the board, and he resisted the urge to turn around and look. Boyd knew Mel was dead. He knew it as sure as he knew his heart was still beating, though in that moment it felt like stone in his chest.

He sensed her presence long before he caught the subtle scent of her perfume or felt her arm and leg brush his. Grace didn't say anything, she just leant against the desk next to Boyd, their bodies flush down one side. Dimly, Boyd was aware of Grace starting to shake and out of the corner of his eye he could see the tears coursing down her cheeks. Without really thinking about it, he leant against her a little, offering her his support and love, such as it was. Grace leant back, and slowly Boyd felt the stone casing around his heart crack and break.

As they shared their grief, no words were necessary. But then again, they never really had been.

TBC


	8. Interlude - Season 4 to 5

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*September 2004*

It should have been raining, not blazing sunshine. The sky should have been black with cloud; no light should have touched their tear-streaked faces, no heat should have reached their heavy hearts. No one lives forever, and everyone has to die at some point. The team knew that better than most, but to lose one of their own in such a horrific way had been an unexpected blow, one they were all still reeling from. None of them were coping with the loss of Mel; they were just existing, not wanting to move on in case they forgot her. She had been the light of the team, though that hadn't realised it until now. She was the shining beacon of hope, happiness, and joy to each of them, but it taken her death for them to see it.

The attendance for the funeral was restricted to her family and closest friends. Boyd had been surprised when he received an invitation to go to the service, but Grace had just shaken her head at him. The four of them, Boyd, Grace, Spencer and Frankie, had all gone together, and picked a pew far away from the family so they wouldn't intrude. Mel's parents had other ideas. They ushered the team into a pew closer to the front, and on the same side of the family. That was the first thing that made Boyd begin to come undone.

Their seating arrangements weren't discussed, they just sat, Boyd and Spencer at the ends, Grace and Frankie in the middle. Grace sat next to Boyd, Frankie next to Spencer, and they all held hands, their knuckles turning white as they gripped each other for support.

But not long into the service, Boyd suddenly let go of Grace's hand and disappeared from the building. Grace looked stunned, and turned to watch him go, wondering what had sparked such a quick exit. When she looked back, both Frankie and Spencer were looking at her, one with an expression of confusion, the other with an expression bordering on loathing. Grace shrugged slightly and motioned back to the front. Mel's mother was just about to speak about the loss of her little girl, and as her words washed over the team like an oily tide, the three of them felt the guilt gnaw at their hearts. They had failed Mel. They couldn't have stopped what had happened, they couldn't have prevented her death, but there were still 'what ifs' floating around, attacking them like barbs.

After the service, Grace found Boyd sat in the car, his face frozen as though he was carved from stone. "What happened?" she asked quietly as she slide into the passenger seat, her eyes red and puffy from crying.

"Nothing."

"Peter...."

"Mel's dead, that's what happened," Boyd shot back. "And no, I don't want to deal with it. I don't want to *believe* it."

"Is that why you're keeping the car?" Grace asked. It wasn't the first time they'd had the conversation. Boyd was stubbornly insisting that there was no reason he should trade in his car once the windscreen had been fixed. Even Grace with all her qualifications couldn't understand the logic in wanting to keep something that had helped to kill a friend and colleague.

"Now is not the time to be talking about the damn car, Grace," Boyd said flatly.

"It's never a good time to be talking about *anything* with you, Boyd," Grace replied wearily. "Look, the team needs you. And you need the team."

"What I need...." Boyd trailed off.

Grace sighed. "...Is to be left alone. Drop me off at home, please, and then you can have just that."

"Grace," Boyd started to say, but she held her hand up.

"Like you said, you don't want to deal with it. So don't deal. But I'll tell you now, one day you'll have to." Grace put on her seatbelt and then looked at him. "Just make sure it's sooner rather than later, Boyd."

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*December 2004*

*"I'm not coming."

Grace sighed as she looked into the sunken eyes of the dark haired woman sat opposite her. "I knew you would say that, Frankie."

"Then why did you ask?"

"Because this is a time when we should be coming together, not being apart," Grace implored her.

Frankie shook her head. "What about at Mel's funeral?" Her voice caught as she said her friend's name. "What happened to solidarity then, when Boyd just upped and left us?"

"Frankie...."

"Don't defend him, Grace," the scientist continued. "You know what he did was wrong." She shook her head. "As long as I live, I will never understand why you stand by him like you do."

"No, you won't," Grace snapped back.*

The memory played itself again and again as Grace stared into her glass of wine. In the armchair opposite, Boyd was doing the same, staring silently into nothing. It had been a quiet Christmas, just the two of them. Grace had tried to encourage Spencer and Frankie to join them; it was a time for closing ranks, she had said. Neither wanted to listen; neither cared.

*"I'm not coming."

Grace sighed. The sense of déjà vu was strong."Do I need to ask why?"

"If you do, you need to find a new job," Spencer replied, his tone more harsh than he wanted it to be.

"It's Christmas."

"And I'll be spending it elsewhere."

"Alone?" Grace asked.

Spencer shrugged. "I guess. Depends what Frankie's doing."

"Not spending it with us."

"And why are you spending it with him? He doesn't deserve it, you know."

Grace sighed again. "You wouldn't understand."*

She rolled her neck from side to side, trying to ease some of the tension that had gathered there. It was an odd, and somewhat uncomfortable, situation for her. Boyd was there, yet not; close, yet far away. She could tell she didn't even have an ounce of his attention and she also knew he wouldn't share his thoughts with her. Grace wondered if she would have been better off alone, but that thought was immediately dismissed.

"Are Frankie and Spencer spending Christmas together?" Boyd asked quietly.

Grace nodded. "I think so."

"Good. They shouldn't be alone."

"Neither should you," Grace replied, knowing exactly where the conversation was heading.

Boyd laughed, but it was a humourless sound. "Yes, I should, and you know it."

She didn't argue with him. Instead she just sat in silence, listening to the muted sounds of the television, the noises on the streets outside. Turning, she looked out of the window. "It's starting to snow."

Boyd rose quickly. "Time for me to be going then."

To his great shock, and hers, Grace grabbed his hand. "Stay for a while longer, Peter. Just for today...don't punish yourself."

As he looked down at his oldest friend, he wanted nothing more than to say yes, but it would have felt like some sort of betrayal. "I can't, Grace. I'm sorry."

She nodded sadly in understand. "Do you want to take some food back with you? I've got more than enough."

"That would be nice, thank you."

His acceptance of food was at least something, however small, and as Grace was putting potatoes and turkey into a container for him, she wondered how she was going to fix him this time. It wasn't her job, of course, but it didn't stop her from trying, though something told her Boyd would have to work this one out alone.

On the front doorstep, when Boyd bid her goodnight, she did something she had not done for years. She raised herself up and kissed his bearded cheek. A tear glistened in his eye and for a moment it looked as though he was going to change his mind, but a second later he was turning and walking away from her. And once again Grace was struck with a feeling of déjà vu.

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*April 2005*

To say Boyd was unhappy would have been a huge understatement. Although he had put off filling Mel's place on the team for as long as he could, the Commissioner was starting to put increasing amounts of pressure on him to find a replacement. In the eight months since she had been killed, there had been two or three temporary officers assigned to the team to help them cope with paperwork, but none stayed longer than a couple of months. But now, to make matters worse, Frankie had left as well. No 'so long', no 'farewell' from her. She just simply went, and the first Boyd heard about it was when the Commissioner phoned him.

*"Boyd," he answered as he picked up the phone.

"Do you have a problem, Superintendent?"

Boyd automatically straightened in his seat, making sure his tie was tidy, though why he was bothering, he didn't rightly know. "Sir?"

"I have before me Dr Wharton's resignation," the Commissioner said. "And I'm wondering why you didn't tell me about it." Boyd was stunned into silence, a rare occurrence for a man like him, and the Commissioner seemed to interpret the quietness correctly. "I'm sorry, Peter. She didn't tell you?"

"This is the first I've heard of it, sir," Boyd replied, his voice hoarse, months of pent up emotion threatening to spill over as tears.

"I see." The Commissioner was silent for a time. "I needn't tell you that you'll need a replacement...."

"With all due respect, sir, that isn't for me to sort out," Boyd said, the firmness back in his voice. "It's for the Home Office to find a replacement for Dr Wharton, not me."

"It may take some time."

"I'm sure we'll manage, sir," he ground out.

The Commissioner picked up on the hostility, knew it wasn't directed at him. "I'm sure you will. I'll be in touch when I have some news." And with that, the phone went dead.

Boyd cradled the receiver for a while, staring into space. It registered with some part of his brain that the Commissioner hadn't even mentioned replacing Mel, and he was grateful for that. But most of his consciousness was occupied with the news he had just received.

"Grace!" he shouted, slamming the phone back down as he came to his senses. Outside, Spencer scowled but said nothing, and Boyd made a decision. "Spence, you as well!"

"What?" Grace asked grouchily as she sat down, and from the look Spencer was giving him, Boyd knew neither of them had forgiven him for ducking out of the funeral the previous year.

"Frankie's left us. The Commissioner just phoned me to ask why I hadn't informed him of her resignation." Boyd sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "It's the first I've heard about it. What about you two?"

From the looks on their faces, he already knew the answer before either of them spoke. "Frankie's...gone?" Grace asked in disbelief. "Where? When? Why?"

"Excellent questions," Boyd replied.

"I can take a guess at why," Spencer said, glaring at his superior.

Boyd sighed again. "Alright, Spence. Let's deal with this right now. In my position, what would you have done?"

"I would have...stayed! Done it all differently!" Spencer shot back somewhat hesitantly.

"Because you know how fucked up it's all going to get!" Boyd retorted. "If you didn't know, what would you do? Exactly the bloody same." Silence. "Exactly the same." The repeated words were spoken softly. "And now Frankie's gone. I didn't do that. She could have left months ago. Why now?" He shook his head. "I don't know."

"So, not only do we need a new junior police officer, but a new forensic scientist as well," Grace said glumly.

"We'll manage," Boyd told her, though his tone betrayed his feeling on that matter.

As Grace looked at him, her expression clearly said that 'managing' was no substitute for 'doing well', as the previous incarnation of the team had done.

Spencer broke the silence. "Now what?"

"Now, Spence, we go back to work."*

But Boyd hadn't been able to go back to work. He had imitated the act, but his heart simply wasn't in it, and it wasn't a feeling he relished experiencing. He wasn't a man prone to reminiscing, though he was guilty of harbouring enough regrets to cover the entire of Russia in a nice, thick blanket. But lately, Boyd found himself thinking of nothing but how things were before... Before what, exactly? Before Frankie left? Before Mel died? Before Mary divorced him? Before Joe disappeared? Before he and Grace stopped talking? Before what, exactly?

And now, during the time of greatest need for friendship, Boyd had pushed Grace away once again. He couldn't help it; she was too close to him, and he didn't want anyone else seeing his pain or his weakness. But as he found himself thinking on the past, Boyd realised he didn't want to be alone. Standing, he left his office and entered Grace's, sitting down on the couch without speaking.

Grace had seen him staring into space, had seen the emotions playing on his face because he thought no one else was watching. She had seen him, out of the corner of her eye, rise and head her way, and she had a good idea what he wanted. But whether she was ready to give on the subject was an entirely different matter. He had handled the situation as poorly as possible and nothing short of an apology, which was as likely as being snowed in, would solve the problem.

"I'm...I'm sorry."

Grace froze, the words shocking her completely. Looking up, she found herself feeling surprised. "What for?"

"Being me. Being the way I am," Boyd said quietly. "I will not deal with Mel's death, just like I haven't dealt with Joe's disappearance, because I'm responsible for both things happening. I left the funeral because I failed. And...I know...you've needed me over the past few months, and I haven't been there."

"Frankie and Spence needed you too," Grace replied, equally as quietly.

Boyd shook his head. "The only thing Spence needs from me is to be a focal point for his anger." At her surprised expression, he smiled slightly. "I do listen, believe it or not. As for Frankie, she would have left anyway. No amount of sweet talking on my part would have stopped that."

"Perhaps, but the point is you didn't try, and that's why she left without a word."

Boyd stared at his friend. "You know where she is?"

"I might," Grace replied evasively.

"Have you spoken to her?"

"I might have."

"You're not making this easy."

"No, I'm not."

Boyd sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'll try harder, okay?"

Grace smiled at him. "That's all I ask."

"You don't ask a lot, do you?" he muttered.

She ignored him. "Don't you have work to do?"

"Actually I just thought I'd sit here for a while," Boyd said mildly. "If I'm not disturbing you."

"No, not really," Grace replied quickly to hide her shock. "Actually, while you're here, there's something I wanted to discuss about the case...."

TBC


	9. Season 5

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*Towers Of Silence, September 2005*

"Whatever it was, I didn't do it," Spencer said, holding his hands up.

Grace smiled at him from Boyd's couch. "Don't worry, Spence, you're not in trouble."

"Well, actually, Grace, he is," Boyd replied, adjusting his glasses.

Spencer looked confused. "Sir?"

"Sit down, Spence. We've been given a new case, but we need someone to go undercover in a prison," Boyd explained.

"And that would be me," Spencer surmised.

"Exactly."

"So, what am I in for?"

"Assaulting your senior officer," Boyd said.

Spencer stared at him. "You."

"That would be me."

"How real do we have to make this?"

Boyd's amused expression turned to a glare. "Is that a threat, Spence?"

"No, sir, I was just asking," Spencer replied, but there was a tone to his voice.

"Look, I don't need your anger to make me feel guilty over what happened to Mel, or for Frankie leaving," Boyd snapped.

"I know!" Spencer retorted. "It's just...I miss her. And now we've been given this case, even though we don't have a full team"

"Actually, we do," Grace interrupted. "The Home Office is sending us a Dr Felix Gibson, and DS Andy Stephenson is being seconded just for this case."

"The pathologist?" Spencer asked.

Grace shrugged. "I don't know how long she'll stay."

"And why are we getting this DS temporarily?"

"She was involved in a similar case."

Both Boyd and Spencer looked surprised. "She?" Boyd asked.

Grace rolled her eyes. "Yes. Andy happens to be short for Andrea. Don't you listen to anything I say?" she asked in exasperation.

"Yes," Boyd replied defensively.

Spencer could sense an argument brewing and wanted to be as far away as possible when the shit hit the fan. "When do I leave?" he asked.

"A few days. Come back on Thursday and I'll give you a proper briefing," Boyd said. "I just wanted to let you know what was happening then you could prepare yourself."

Spencer nodded. "Right, sir. Grace." He stood and left.

"What?" Boyd asked when he caught Grace glaring at him.

She waited for a few moments, then sighed and shook her head. "Nothing, Boyd. Nothing."

*_*_*_*_*

"Boyd!" Grace admonished him for his behaviour, but he didn't listen, didn't care at that moment in time about anything. After all, she couldn't know what he was thinking.

Twelve months on and Mel's face still haunted him, lurking behind his eyes, taunting him, hating him, questioning him. Boyd had no idea what he was saying, though he was certain it was a fairly accurate reconstruction of what happened because Grace didn't interrupt him. But the new DS was the problem, taking his concentration away from the task in hand, and suddenly Boyd felt the need to run away. After an attempt, for him, at being nice to the new DS, whose name he barely remembered, he retreated mournfully into his office.

Grace waited a beat, then looked at Andy. "Can you just give me a minute?" Without waiting for a reply, she followed the lion into his den. "What was that about?"

"What? I was in the middle of...," Boyd started but Grace cut him off.

"Rubbish, Boyd. You were rude and you know."

"Now wait a minute...."

"No, I don't think I will because if I do, you'll find some way to weasel out of this conversation, like you've been doing for months!" Grace gestured outside. "All Andy needed was a 'hello' to make her feel like she was actually welcome, not a mild form of the Spanish Inquisition!"

"At least you admit I was mild," Boyd said quickly. "That has to count for something, doesn't it?"

"Honestly, Boyd, what does it take to get through to you?" she asked him. "You ran out of Mel's funeral, you haven't spoken about her to anyone since...."

"How do you know?" he replied sharply.

Grace sighed. "Because I know you, and you haven't dealt with it. And don't," she said, holding her hand up, "Insult me by telling me you're fine. I know 'fine' and you are most definitely not it."

"Alright, so I'm not fine," Boyd admitted, much to Grace's surprise. "What's your point?"

"My *point*, Boyd," she continued after a beat, "Is why the hell don't you do something about it? Twelve months on and you *still* haven't filled the vacancies on the team." Grace quickly held her hand up. "No, no, before you say anything, the commissioner and the Home Office arranged for Frankie's replacement because they were tired of waiting for you to do it. And we've been without a junior officer for so long now...and Andy doesn't count because she's only here temporarily."

"I...just...."

But Grace continued relentlessly. "Oh, and who was it who requested the secondment of *this* officer who handled the Mehta family?"

Boyd recognised defeat when it was staring him in the eye, but he still wasn't ready to give it up. "Yeah, I know, I know. I just didn't know it was going to be a...she-person." That wasn't what he wanted to say, what he was going to say. He *had* known, of course he had. He just hadn't expected the wounds to still be so fresh. A year on and he still hadn't gotten over Mel's death. Boyd knew he wasn't the only one, knew the rest of the team were still hurting too, but they seemed to have pulled themselves together enough to act professional, yet he hadn't. What did that say about him? And Grace...she had tried to help, but he hadn't let her, and now it was like she was disappointed in him, like she expected him to sort it out on his own. Didn't she realise that when he pushed her away, it was his way of screaming for help? After all these years, was it possible Grace didn't know Boyd at all?

Then he realised she was looking at him expectantly, that she had spoken and that he had replied, and now from her expression it was clear he had to go out there and make amends. Sighing, Boyd did as he was silently told.

*_*_*_*_*

Boyd hesitated, wondering whether he should voice the question that had been on his mind for weeks now, and decided there would never be a better time. "Have you heard from Frankie?"

Grace, too, hesitated, wondering how much to tell him. In all their years of friendship, they had kept secrets, certainly, but lying about this seemed wrong, somehow. "Yeah, she's gone back to research," she replied as nonchalantly as she possibly could.

"You talked to her?" Boyd asked, attempting to sound disinterested, or mildly curious at best. He didn't fool Grace for a moment.

"Yes." Grace had indeed talked to Frankie, and most of the conversation did not bear repeating; it wouldn't have done Boyd any good anyway.

Boyd knew she was hiding things, knew she wasn't telling him everything; in fact, she wasn't telling him anything. Not that Grace needed to. Boyd knew why Frankie had left, knew why she had waited so long before disappearing, and he knew it was his fault. He shouldn't have asked her to process the scene, knew it violated some sort code, but he couldn't bear to have anyone else near Mel's body, someone who would just treat her...it...as a corpse.

Realising Grace was looking at him, Boyd simply nodded and left before she could start prodding and poking at him. He decided somewhat wryly that her Ph.D. was actually in Prodding and Poking, not Psychology as she claimed, and the thought took his mind off the current situation, at least for a while.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*Black Run, September 2005*

*'No, Spence, it's textbook....'*

Grace closed her eyes as her words to the DI came back to her. She had snapped at him and she knew it, but by God, he deserved it. He was acting like a petulant child and she had felt the sudden, overwhelming urge to slap him. Grace didn't understand how, after all this time and after everything they had been through as a team, that Spence would turn on Boyd so easily.

Of course, part of her anger was directed at herself. She should have known better than to let Boyd go out on his own after the kick in the head he'd received. Grace suddenly groaned and lowered her head into her hands. She sounded like an overprotective mother, not a lifelong friend of Boyd's.

And that was the problem. Normally, Grace would have been less defensive of the DSI, but in this case, she *knew* Boyd was innocent. He was a lot of things, but a careless, drunken driver was not one of them; he wasn't her father. Yet Boyd had done something stupid, and either he couldn't remember as he claimed or he just didn't want to tell her, and Grace couldn't decide which was worse. And she, just like Spencer and the rest of the team, had immediately assumed he worst in Boyd. Was that what he inspired? Barely any trust at all? She reasoned with herself that her actions and thoughts were justifiable, but deep down she knew it was a lie; she was angry with herself for jumping to conclusions, and suddenly Grace couldn't recall a time she felt worse about herself as a person.

Ten seconds later, she realised that *now* she felt worse. She had been so busy being angry at Boyd that she never stopped to think how *he* must be feeling; if he couldn't remember hitting the motorcyclist, the inner turmoil he must have been going through would have been unbelievable. And what had Grace done, as his lifelong friend? Turned her back on him. Despite what everyone else believed, despite what was usually the case, Boyd wasn't always the one in the wrong.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*Subterraneans, October 2005*

"And it's a cold case because...?" Spencer asked.

"We've got a probable ID from a wallet," Boyd replied.

"Why didn't you say so?"

"You were a little busy when I called, Spence," Boyd said mildly.

"Devotion to duty is a very sexy thing, Spence," Grace added.

"You just shouldn't do it on your own," Boyd finished.

But Spencer wasn't paying attention. In that moment, he was actually missing Frankie and Mel, not simply because they were gone, but because of their almost constant discussion about Boyd and Grace's relationship. Spencer had shied away from the notion that they were 'involved', but he knew there was more to it than met the eye. And Grace's comment about devotion to duty being sexy...he couldn't think of anyone more devoted to their job than Boyd, although he wondered where the line between devotion and obsession was. Did that mean that Grace thought Boyd was sexy? Spencer was certain Frankie and Mel would have dined out on that information for weeks. But they weren't there any more, either of them, and he still had a hard time not blaming Boyd for both departures, though rationally he knew Mel's death wasn't the DSI's fault. It was just that when Boyd and Grace started to act...normally, bantering with each other and almost finishing each other's sentences, Spencer started to feel like a spare wheel and it angered him. They still had each other, each still had their counterpart, their balance; both of Spencer's had gone, and found himself careening downhill without any brakes or way of steering. Both Boyd and Grace might have been entitled to whatever it was they had, but that didn't stop Spencer being utterly jealous at times.

*_*_*_*_*

"So," Grace said, leaning in Boyd's doorway.

"What?" he asked.

"You're not happy, though I don't know why." She entered the room. "Your hunch was right, and your conduct with Henderson's wife was exemplary, but you're not...preening around like an arsehole."

Boyd's face was an emotionless mask, but his insides were churning. This had been the second case for the new team and they seemed to be coming together well, but offhand – or perhaps deliberate – comments like that reminded him that things would never been the same again. It made Mel's death and Frankie's departure seem like yesterday, and it made Boyd wonder, somewhat irrationally, who would be next.

"I robbed a child of their father," Boyd replied quietly. "It doesn't feel like much of a victory."

And to that, Grace had no answer.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*Straw Dogs, October 2005*

When Boyd had told Grace he needed to know what happened between her and Harry Taylor for the sake of the investigation, he wasn't exactly telling the truth. It was a testament to how upset Grace was because she never picked up on his hidden agenda; usually he couldn't keep anything from her.

After Grace had finished talking, she actually looked afraid, and Boyd suspected the expression on his face wasn't helping to put her at ease. But he wasn't angry with her for not telling him; he was angry with himself for not being there for Grace, or being there with her, to comfort her and help her, or beat the crap out of Harry if she'd let him. Although considering how much Boyd cared about Grace, he probably would have beaten the crap out of the arsehole anyway.

When Spencer interrupted, Boyd was happy the moment had been broken. He knew he and Grace would have to deal with what had been divulged, but Boyd knew now wasn't the time. Rising from his seat, he walked past Grace without looking at her. He knew how she would read his actions; hell, Boyd knew he should never have put her in a room with Greene in the first place, but he had to do *something*. Grace's silence over the details of the Tony Greene case cut Boyd deep. It reminded him of the great chasm in their friendship that still needed healing, the cause of which was all his fault.

Suddenly Boyd was filled with the urge to hurt somebody. Grabbing his coat, he strode out of the office with purpose.

*_*_*_*_*

*"I've known you a long time, Grace, and I've been doing this job a lot longer."*

As Grace sat in Boyd's office alone, the words came back to her, whipping at her with tremendous force, shocking her with the ferocity of emotions she was feeling. Was it possible that, somehow, Boyd had suddenly blocked out their friendship? Did he honestly believe that he could just ignore everything they had been through and just count the years they had been working together as the sum of their relationship? Or was he just being paranoid that someone might overhear? Was it just a throwaway comment, one he managed to say the wrong way round? Was it supposed to come out 'I've been doing this job a long time, Grace, and I've known you a lot longer?' She took some comfort in the hope that Boyd *had* meant so say that.  
Because if he *had* actually said what he meant, that would explain a lot of things, like the direction their friendship was going. It was like the swing of a pendulum that slowly gathered speed, the distance between the extremes becoming greater with each passing week. It would explain how they had found themselves in such a terrible place after so many decades of friendship. But it did not, unfortunately, explain how to go back to the way they were. That was something Grace knew they would have to work out for themselves, and suddenly hope of ever reaching such a comfortable relationship again fled. Putting her head in her hands, not caring who saw her, Grace cried.

*_*_*_*_*

Hearing Grace's voice reply to him made Boyd's heart lighten, especially because she sounded so glad to see him. When they finally got into the room, he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms but he knew she was more concerned with Kevin than herself, so Boyd made do with a hand on her shoulder.

Back at the office, in an attempt to put her mind at ease, he had requested Harry Taylor's file and left it on her desk. Out in the corridor, Grace had surprised him by not ripping his head off about putting his life on the line, but unknown to Boyd, it gnawed at Grace's mind how close he came to being shot, and she didn't like the storm of feelings that thought kicked up.

Boyd had left her to it, and Grace sat in her office for a few moments remembering, trying to attach a good thought to Harry Taylor. Finally succeeding, she closed the file and left her office.

Unsurprisingly, Boyd was waiting in the car park. "I know you probably want to go home and be alone for a while, but...."

"No," Grace said quietly.

"Pardon?"

"No, I don't want to be alone, but...you can't be my company."

Boyd's expression hardened. "I see."

Grace sighed. "No, Boyd, you don't." She walked over to his car and leant against it, next to him. "Throughout this case, I kept getting flashbacks to the first time I met Harry, and usually...in those flashbacks...I superimposed Harry onto you."

"Why?" Boyd asked, surprised.

"I could answer that, Boyd, but I won't. Not now at least," Grace replied. "Let me just say that I would like company, preferably yours, but I don't want to get things confused in my head. We still have issues we're working through with regards to our friendship, and the last thing I want to do is...well, merge you with Harry. You're two separate people, who both mean different things to me." She shrugged. "I don't know if that makes much sense or not."

Boyd bumped her shoulder slightly. "I think I understand, but that's not saying much for either of us."

Grace smiled. "Thank you."

"What for?"

"Caring. Saving my life. Being you...most of the time."

"You're welcome. But...."

"If you ever put yourself in danger like that again, I'll kill you myself," Grace told him firmly.

Boyd smiled. "Understood. You sure you'll be okay?"

Grace nodded and moved away from his car. "Eventually, Peter. Eventually."

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*Undertow, November 2005*

"I don't understand what the problem is, Grace!" Boyd shouted.

Grace stared at him. "Are you being serious, Boyd?"

"I did the same when we were kids...."

"No," Grace said heatedly. "Don't try and justify it that way. It was *completely* different when we were younger, and you damn well know it. Look, Boyd, I was serious then and I'm deadly serious now: I never want to see you like that again, understood? Be rough with a suspect if you must; I honestly don't expect any different from you because it seems to be in your nature. But if you ever come close to killing one"

"You'll, what? Leave?" Boyd snapped.

Grace stared at him coolly. "If that's what if would take, yes."

As Boyd stared back flatly, the temperature in the room dropped several degrees. "I have work to do."

Grace couldn't hide the hurt that flashed in her eyes as she saw the barrier come down behind Boyd's eyes, pushing her away again. Sighing, she stood. "Alright. But do you remember what I said, not that long ago, about never putting in that position, and what did you do today? You put me in the same...."

"It was completely different to the Henderson case," Boyd said quietly, surprising her. She hadn't expected him to respond at all.

"So you do remember what I said to you," Grace replied, her tone biting.

Boyd stared at her from behind his defences. "I've never forgotten a word. This was different. I didn't put you in any sort of position; I didn't ask you to lie, or to defend me. Now I'm not asking you to get out; I'm telling you."

Wordlessly, Grace left.

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*Cold Fusion, November 2005*

Grace rushed into the hospital and asked for Spencer Jordan, flashing her Home Office card to emphasise her position. Surprisingly, it worked. She was shown to a room that had two occupants. Boyd didn't turn when he heard the door open, thinking it was just a nurse, and so he started violently when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"You should go home," Grace said quietly.

"I will when I know Spence is alright," Boyd replied, looking back at the DI lay unconscious in the bed.

The surgery had been successful and the doctors were hopeful of a speedy recovery, but Spencer had yet to regain consciousness, and it seemed only Boyd was worried.

"He'll be fine," Grace reassured him.

"Yeah," Boyd said, though he didn't sound convinced. "Where are the others?"

Grace took her coat off and pulled a chair up next to Boyd's. "Stella's waiting downstairs in the car. She wasn't sure whether her presence would be acceptable or not."

"That's for Spence to decide when he wakes up." Boyd turned slightly to look at Grace. "Felix?"

The profiler sighed. "I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Boyd asked, his voice rising slightly.

Grace laid a hand lightly on his arm. "I mean I don't know. We got the news that Spence had been shot, I went to tell Felix and she was simply gone. I don't know whether she's just gone home or what. I was too worried about Spence, and you, to think about a missing scientist. You know as well as I do that she can't have gone far."

"First Frankie, then Felix. Do you think the position of forensic scientist is cursed in our team?"

"No."

Boyd turned away. "Then you think it's me."

"I didn't say that," Grace replied mildly, not rising to the bait. "You really should go home. You've been through a lot."

"I'm fine."

"Spence knows you care, Boyd. You don't need to push yourself this hard to prove it to him."

"I said I'm fine," Boyd repeated, impatience creeping into his voice.

But Grace carried on relentless. "Are you trying to make up for something, perhaps? Like pushing Frankie away...or your son."

Boyd's head snapped around, his dark eyes flashing with anger. "That's enough, Grace," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Spence could have been killed and you're sat there lecturing me on my reasons for staying! What the hell gives you the right? Nothing. Nothing gives you the right. Not your credentials, not your standing in the team"

"Not our friendship," Grace interrupted him quietly, her eyes streaked with pain.

For a long time, both were silent. "You make a comment like that which is completely out of order, yet you make me feel like I'm the one in the wrong." Boyd turned his attention back to Spencer. "Go home, Grace. You can't do any more here."

Tears pricked the corners of Grace's eyes as she stared at the back of Boyd's head, but not necessarily because of his words; it was because she knew he was right. Wordlessly, she collected her coat and left the room, unaware Boyd was crying as well.

TBC


	10. Interlude - Season 5 to 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The correct term is 'ouija board', but it can also be spelt 'weegie' and I thought that would be more familiar (it'll make sense once you've read the chapter).

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*January 2006*

*'It's not supposed to be this way,'* Grace thought glumly as she made her way to the room Spencer was staying in. The DI had been in hospital for almost two months, but he had made an excellent recovery and was hoping to be home within the next few days. That didn't stop Grace from worrying about him, or from visiting every day. She tried to keep a smile on her face while talking to him, but it had been hard, harder still since Christmas.

After their short argument after Spencer had been brought into hospital, Boyd and Grace had hardly spoken. A few words here and there, mainly in the context of work; it was like their friendship had ceased to exist over night, and Grace was having a hard time understanding it all. She knew Boyd was stressed with everything that had happened; she wasn't exactly relaxed about it herself. Spencer had almost died, Felix had been injured, and Stella was the cause of it all. The irony of it all was that Felix was more upset with the young DC than Spencer was. Grace shook her head. She always had the feeling that Felix had never really tried to fit into the team; the effort to be a part of the 'family' always seemed to be half-hearted. Stella wanted so much to work in the unit, then ended up betraying them. And Spencer had been caught up in everything. It was far too easy to forget that he too had lost a friend, and a partner, and that he was having as much trouble adjusting to a different team as Grace herself was, and Boyd especially. But because of their bond, Grace noticed Boyd's discomfort far more than Spencer's.

She stopped outside the DI's room, not ready to face him when her thoughts were so jumbled and confused. She had thought that with everything the team had just been through, especially with Spencer being injured, it would have brought Boyd and herself closer together. Instead it had driven them so far apart Grace wasn't sure they'd ever be able to find their way back to each other, not even with a pack of hunting dogs and a weegie board. She had made the effort, as usual, to reach Boyd, but he steadfastly ignored her. Was he still upset about what she had said in the hospital room all those weeks ago? Grace could only wonder. She hadn't even bothered to raise the issue of Christmas; it seemed a moot point anyway, and even if their relationship had been good, Grace knew Boyd wouldn't have been much company.

Pushing all thoughts about her oldest friend from her head, Grace forced a smile onto her face and entered Spencer's room. "Good morning, Spence, and how are we today?"

"The same as I was yesterday," he replied with a smile.

Grace shrugged. "I have to ask." As she sat down next to his bed, she noticed a magazine on the cabinet that hadn't been there when she visited the day before.

Following her gaze, Spencer said, "Boyd came to see me," before Grace could speak.

"Oh." She had spent the entire of yesterday with Boyd and not once did he mention he was planning to see the DI.

"Grace, what's going on with you two?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit."

"Watch your language."

Spencer just grinned. "You're not my mother, you're my colleague, and, I'd like to think, a friend as well. Something's going on with you and Boyd."

Grace sighed wearily. "It's a very long story."

"I'm not going anywhere," he replied.

"It's complicated."

"I like puzzles."

"How about 'I don't want to talk about it'?"

"You sound just like him," Spencer pointed out. He frowned. "You didn't spend Christmas together, did you." It wasn't a question.

"For God's sake, Spence, why do you care?" Grace snapped irritably. "If I remember rightly, you swore last year that you'd never spend another Christmas with Boyd. You hated him."

"Grace, Boyd and I have had our problems, I'm not denying that," Spencer said gently. "But being shot and almost killed tends to make you see life a *little* more clearly."

"I'm sorry, Spence, it's just...." She made a gesture.

"I know, everything. It's gets you down sometimes. Sometimes a lot of the time. And that's what friends are for, which is why I'm wondering why you and Boyd have suddenly stopped talking."

"How do you...?"

"He never mentions you any more," Spencer replied. "Before, it was always 'I'll ask Grace' or 'I'll see what Grace thinks'. He probably didn't even realise he was doing it. But in the two months I've been here, he's never once mentioned your name. And you never talk about him. It doesn't take a genius to work it out."

"We're going through a rough patch," Grace admitted. "It isn't the first time and it won't be the last. We'll get through it. Now, what about you?"

"What about me?"

"How are you feeling about everything that's happened?" Grace asked.

Spencer shrugged. "Like I said, it makes you see things more clearly. And the first thing I'm going to do when I get out of here is book my arse into a gym and loose some weight!"

"But I like you cuddly, Spence," Grace said with a smile.

"I don't. I've been thinking as well...maybe getting a tattoo done around the bullet wound." He shrugged again. "You know...therapy."

Grace nodded. "I understand." She paused. "What about Stella?"

"What about her?" Spencer sighed. "Look, Grace, she made a mistake, but so did I. If I hold it against her, like I held Mel's death against Boyd, it'll turn the whole team sour again, and I don't want that. I've realised that I take life and the job too seriously. I'm turning into Boyd! Now that's a cold, sobering thought." He shook his head. "I've forgiven Stella, and as soon as I see her, I'll tell her that in person. She'll suffer enough shit from Boyd and the others in the chain of command. She doesn't need grief from me as well."

Grace smiled and covered Spencer's hand with hers. "You're a good man, Spencer Jordan."

"And handsome, don't forget that," he replied. "It's the most important thing."

"Oh, of course," she said, laughing.

"And, Grace, I know you're always the one who makes a move, but try and patch things up with Boyd," Spencer told her. "He's a difficult bastard, but he needs you. And before you say anything, I told him the same thing yesterday."

She sighed again. "I'll try, Spence," she said quietly, knowing as she spoke the words that they were a lie. She wouldn't make an effort this time because she knew it wouldn't be well received or reciprocated. It was time for Boyd to make the first move, though the irony of the situation wasn't lost on her. Whenever he was in the wrong, she would go to him, but now Grace had overstepped the mark, it was Boyd's turn to make things better. She knew he wouldn't.

Just as Spencer knew Grace was lying, that whatever had happened between her and Boyd must have been bad for them to split so far apart. Forcing a smile on his face, he attempted to cheer her up.

"So, what's the weather like? Have the polar bears come to enjoy the freezing temperatures of London yet?"

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*June 2006*

When Boyd received the phone call from the Commissioner, he knew exactly what it meant and he was less than happy about it. After Frankie's shocked departure, he had tried his, what he thought, best to make Felix feel at home. Then Stella's betrayal made the pathologist the recipient of a chemical attack, one that wasn't fatal, but that wasn't the point. Being in danger in the line of duty wasn't what Felix signed up for; Boyd knew that and understood it, and while he had expected there to be consequences, he didn't expect her to just up and leave, exactly the same way Frankie had. One minute the team had a pathologist, the next they hadn't. Boyd knew he could have tracked Felix down if he had wanted to, the same way he could have found Frankie, but he didn't, for two very different reasons. Frankie would expect an apology, and quite rightly so, but how could Boyd apologise when he hadn't forgiven himself? As for Felix, she too would expect an apology, but Boyd would have none to give her because the team had all suffered in the line of duty, including Frankie and Grace, neither of whom were police officers. Boyd expected the Homes Office had explained all that to Felix, who either didn't listen or thought it would never happen to her. Whatever the reasons, she was pushing the boundaries of sulking too far. Over six months had passed since the incident, and she had been more interested in having things 'made up to her' than she was about anything else; she didn't even visit Spencer in hospital, and that irritated Boyd more than anything Stella had done.

As he sat behind his desk waiting for a second call telling him the new pathologist had arrived, Boyd glanced out at the young DC in the squad room. Stella was working furiously, as she did every day, hardly pausing for breath or taking a break. Spencer sat opposite her, and Boyd noticed that every so often, he would sneak some files off her desk, easing her work load, or he would bring her a fresh cup of coffee. It was a situation that needed sorting and soon, Boyd knew, but he had other things on his mind. Without asking his permission, his head swung slowly further to the right, his eyes resting on Grace's bowed head.

*"That's enough, Grace," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Spence could have been killed and you're sat there lecturing me on my reasons for staying! What the hell gives you the right? Nothing. Nothing gives you the right. Not your credentials, not your standing in the team..."

"Not our friendship," Grace interrupted him quietly.

For a long time, both were silent. "You make a comment like that which is completely out of order, yet you make me feel like I'm the one in the wrong." Boyd turned his attention back to Spencer. "Go home, Grace. You can't do any more here."*

Boyd closed his eyes against the pain the memory brought with it. Instead of leaning on each other while Spencer was in hospital, they had driven each other away, and the worst part was, it was so easy. As if almost sixty years of friendship meant absolutely nothing. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Boyd sighed. He would have to talk to her sometime about something other than work, he knew that. But where to start...that was the problem. It was far easier to just...leave it.

*"Boyd, I wanted to talk to you about Christmas," Grace said, her tone neutral. They hadn't spoken since their argument over Spencer's bed and had been avoiding each other studiously.

"What about it?" Boyd asked without looking up.

"Mine or yours?"

Slowly his head lifted, and Grace wished it hadn't. "Pardon?"

"My place or yours?" she repeated, determined to be undaunted.

"If this is a joke, Grace, it's a damn poor one."

"It isn't a joke, Peter. This is the time of year we need to be together."

"You said something similar last year. It didn't work, did it? Why should it work this year?" he asked, ignoring the use of his first name. "And in case you've forgotten, Spence is in hospital fighting for his life. Doesn't it seem a little...callous to you, to be celebrating Christmas while he's unconscious?"

He was trying to run a guilt trip on her, Grace knew that, and she refused to yield. "No, it doesn't. Felix is feeling extremely put out at the minute and Stella could use some reassurance."

"Spence could do with the ability to walk," Boyd retorted. "Do you think he'll get it?"

"Boyd...."

"Grace, you do whatever the hell you want to do at Christmas," Boyd snapped irritably. "I won't be available."

"I see. You'll be spending it alone," Grace said, her tone supercilious. "All this talk about Spence being in pain, but you'll only be looking to yourself, as bloody usual! Well, don't worry about us. I'll put the team back together and I'll hold it together, with or without your help. And one day, Boyd, you'll thank me instead of shouting at me!"

For a long time, he was silent, and when his spoke, his voice was like a blast of Arctic wind. "For your information, *Grace*," he said, extra emphasis on her name making her heart sink, "I'll be spending it by Spence's bedside, which is where I've been every chance I get. I'll be spending it with him because he deserves the company; you obviously think the women of the team are more important."

"I didn't...."

"Stella betrayed this team in the worst possible way," he carried on relentlessly. "Because of her, two men are dead, Spence has been critically wounded and could have died, and Felix could have been seriously injured in that chemical attack. And you and me could have out of here quicker than you can think. As for Felix, she's over dramatising. She wasn't seriously hurt, she's fine now, so she should get over it."

Grace felt small again, like she had in the hospital room, Boyd's words cutting deep gouges in her mind. Once again she had jumped to conclusions. What was the saying? 'Assumptions are the mother of all fuck ups', and how true that was now.

"Boyd, I...."

"You have work to do," he finished for her, though he knew that wasn't what she was about to say. "And so do I." With that, Boyd looked back down, signalling the end of the discussion.*

The phone rang, pulling the DSI out of his reverie. "Boyd," he answered. "Alright, have someone bring her straight down." With a sigh, he replaced the receiver and stood. "Grace!"

The profiler entered the squad room almost timidly. "What?"

Boyd addressed the team as a whole. "We've been assigned a new pathologist, a Dr Eve Lockhart. Anyone know her?" They shook their heads. "She's at the front desk now, someone's bringing her down."

"Here's hoping she lasts longer than our last one," Spencer said with a smile.

Boyd just nodded. "Before she arrives, we need to clear something up. Stella."

"Yes, sir?" the DC asked fearfully.

"Stop working so hard, Spence is getting lazy," Boyd said, and his tone suggested that the whole situation that led to his DI getting shut was now well and truly over. "I will tell Dr Lockhart everything that happened, just so she knows the team's history, and we'll let her decide from it what she will, okay?"

"Do you really think that's a good idea?" Grace asked with a frown.

Boyd thought about it for a moment. "No, you're right." He started to walk back to his office. "You can do it!"

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*October 2006*

Grace steeled herself and knocked on Boyd's door. "Come in," he answered, and she did so, closing the door quietly behind her.

"Are they always like this?" Eve asked from her position perched on the edge of Stella's desk.

The DC shook her head. "Usually they're.... Well, actually, I'm not sure. Sometimes they seem closer than others. You can never tell for sure. It's best to just go with the moment."

"They've got worse over the years," Spencer said, frowning a little. "At first, they only argued occasionally, but that's because Grace won't back down when she comes up against Boyd."

"And Boyd respects her all the more for it," Eve observed.

Spencer nodded. "But there's more to it than that. I know they've known each other for a while," he told her. "I think they were friends back when I was just a PC. But it seems like the years have corroded the friendship."

"Like acid on metal, it eats away at it slowly, bit by bit," Eve said. "But what started that corrosion?"

"Maybe it was always there," Stella suggested. "Or maybe something happened."

Eve looked at Spencer. "Were they better or worse after your partner died?"

"Mel?" the DI asked, and the pathologist nodded. "They were better, for a short time, but then it grew worse. It's like the extremes grew more extreme; the good times better, the bad times worse. I don't think Christmas helped either."

"You were in hospital," Stella pointed out, though somewhat timidly.

"I know. I meant Christmas as a tradition." He sighed. "When the unit was first started, Boyd was seeing someone, who had an infant son. She left him not long after he got promoted to Superintendent because the baby's father had reappeared, wanting a second chance. That Christmas, we all descended on his house." Spencer smiled. "It was a good day. Every Christmas after that, we all gathered at either Boyd or Grace's house, but after Mel died... I hated him and Frankie wasn't happy, so we split off. Then last Christmas...well, least said the better. I think this year it would be good to do Christmas again." He then grinned at Eve. "It would be a good induction to the team for you."

Eve looked at Stella. "Have you suffered...I mean experienced Christmas before with them?" The DC looked thoroughly embarrassed and shook her head. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry, Stella, I didn't think."

Stella smiled a trifle too brightly. "That's okay."

"I didn't think either," Spencer said. "It would be a good induction for you both...if Grace can win Boyd over." With that, they turned to look at his office.

"I wanted to talk to you...," the profiler started.

"About Christmas," Boyd finished. "It seems like the only time you want to talk is when we have a case or about Christmas." He sighed and looked up. "I'm not going to apologise for what happened before, if that's what you're after. And I don't expect you to apologise either. But this...." He gestured between them. "...Has gone on long enough, too long, actually. We've known each other all our lives, Grace, yet here we are willing to throw it all away so quickly. So...let's do Christmas at my place, and take it from there. You can arrive with one of the team and leave with them, then there won't be any room for arguments."

Grace was momentarily speechless, shocked by his words, but angered as well. She had hoped he would apologise if given the time, but it was clear now it was never going to happen. And she didn't see what she had to apologise for, or at least nothing she wanted to admit to. And now she was being summarily dismissed from the Christmas festivities before they had even started.

"I did want to talk to you about Christmas, but only to say that I had plans," she said eventually.

It was a stupid lie, one she wasn't even sure why she was telling, but there was a brief flash of satisfaction at the hurt that crossed Boyd's face. "Enjoy yourself," he replied eventually.

There was a long silence. "Is that it?"

"What else is there to say? You have plans. Fine. I'll talk to the others afterwards, see what they want to do."

That was something Grace didn't expect. "You'd have Christmas with them without me?"

"You're the one that just said you had plans," Boyd snapped. "Or was that just a fabrication? After everything that happened last year, Grace, don't piss about now!"

"I...I think I'd rather be with the team."

"Glad to know you think so highly of us," he said sarcastically. "I'll talk with the rest of the team and let you know when we've sorted a time out."

Once again, Grace could tell with the tone of his voice she was being dismissed, and she wondered if it would be like this from now on. Perhaps it was time to start looking for a new job. The thought had entered her mind more frequently over the years, but something always kept her anchored to the team. Now that reason was fading, and Grace was seriously considering starting a fresh somewhere else, or even taking early retirement. Without speaking, she left Boyd's office, now dreading Christmas instead of looking forward to it.

TBC


	11. Season 6

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*Wren Boys, January 2007*

After the stress of the last twelve months, the atmosphere in the cold case unit was quite jovial at the start of the new year. Grace and Stella laughed as Spencer stripped off to show off his tattoo, and Eve seemed quite settled...well, at least they thought she was settled. She was odd, to say the least, but a good addition to the team, as they had discovered over Christmas. After the argument between herself and Boyd, Grace hadn't been looking forward to the festive period one little bit, but in a sudden change of plans, they descended on her place and made her laugh so much, her sides hurt. Boyd himself was the unusual picture of animation, and while neither apologised to the other about their recent behaviour, they both seemed content to just...forget about it, at least for the time being. And Grace had no doubt that Spencer was behind Boyd's sudden change in attitude; she certainly knew he was behind hers.

*"Grace, I don't care what happened between you and Boyd, but you're not going to let it ruin this Christmas," Spencer told her bluntly. "This has been a shite year, and we need to pull together. I'm lucky to be alive, Stella needs to know she's completely forgiven, and Eve...well, it'll be a good induction for her."

"Meaning if she can survive that, she can survive working with us as well?" Grace asked, amused.

Spencer just nodded. "Exactly. So, just put on a happy face and enjoy yourself. You've earned it. We all have."

Grace looked at him, still amused. "And will you be giving the same speech to Boyd?"

"No," Spencer scoffed, then added, "Far too subtle for him," before walking off.*

And he had been right, annoyingly. And although there was still an undercurrent of tension between them - something which hadn't but there before but had festered and grown over the recent months, perhaps even years – it actually felt like they were reaching something of an equilibrium. Then Grace heard Boyd call her into his office, saw the look on his face and the envelope he was holding, and wondered how long that balance was going to last.

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As Grace walked towards him, she realised she was smiling and wondered why. Perhaps because it felt like they really had stepped back in time, like all their arguments had never happened, but at the same time, she knew something just wasn't quite right. Perhaps it had to do with the necklace that was sent to Mel, with no explanation or reasoning, a fact that was making them both rather prickly. Or perhaps it had to do with the young boy whose death they were investigating, a teenager reminding Boyd of his own lost son. And when his eyes started to get that far away look in them, she didn't comfort him like she might have once done. In fact, she never even thought about it. Instead, she just walked away, having accepted that until Boyd helped himself, there was nothing more she could do.

Boyd, for his part, couldn't tell her how wrong she was, couldn't tell her he needed her. It would have gone against his character, now, at least. He needed her hand on his arm, a gentle smile in his direction, but at least she had spoken soft words to him, words with meaning. And as Boyd leant against the shrine, drinking his coffee, he wondered if it was finally time to let go, though whether he meant his son or Grace, he wasn't sure.

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It felt good, letting loose at Davy's father like that. Felt damned good, in fact. Better than any stupid therapy to help him deal with his demons. Everything he had shouted as an accusation was actually aimed at himself, not at Papa McDonagh. He wondered if Grace would view it as a sort of therapy; he wondered if she'd be proud of him trying to deal with his problems, however unconventional the method.

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It felt good, being forceful, and now she understood how Boyd felt when he cut loose. But she did it in a much more constrained way, much more controlled than him. Or at least that was what she told herself; she didn't want to admit that they were more alike than either really thought. Of course the idea had crossed her mind over the years; they were so close, it had to have. But it was only in that moment she was proud of that fact, of what he had brought out in her. And she hoped, in some small measure, she had brought out something good in him. But the more time passed, the more she became unsure of that fact.

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*Deus Ex Machina, January 2007*

At Boyd's rather off colour comment about food, Grace could only look at him sideways, caught between amusement and despair. When he came out with things like that, she was once again reminded of the boy he used to be. Sometimes she wondered what happened to him, how he became the man walking next to her.

And when they reached their destination, and Grace put her hand on Boyd's back, he wondered the same thing about her; how did the little girl who wouldn't even look at him go to the woman who hadn't left his side for over fifteen years.

If either of them cared to look properly, they would have seen that the old adage of 'the more things change, the more they stay the same' fit them perfectly.

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*'Sometimes the things you love are beyond saving, but you can't let go.'*

As soon as the words had left Cyril's mouth, Boyd found himself thinking about Grace, which almost amused him. He had thought his son would have been the first person to spring to mind, but apparently his mind had other ideas. But did he really think Grace was beyond saving? Even for him, that seemed extreme, though if he looked at the statement from a more...'Grace' point of view, he would have seen that the 'saving' was metaphoric. Grace wasn't his to protect, hadn't been for the better part of almost forty years, and it was his love for her that he kept hold of all those years, even though he saw her merely as a friend, their relationship bore a special kind of love. And he was beginning to have doubts as to that relationship's survival. There was nothing specific he could put his finger on, just a nagging doubt at the back of his mind that *something* wasn't right between them. And if there came a time when their friendship was beyond saving, would he be able to let go?

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The minute Boyd had walked towards the interview room, Grace knew he was about to do something stupid. She had known him long enough to know the signs when she saw them and she could feel herself starting to grow upset over a possible incident, which was just stupid, she told herself. But something made her ask him not to compromise her, and when he promised he wouldn't, Grace found she didn't believe him and that shook her. When had she stopped trusting him? She felt tears prick at her eyes, unbidden, and she knew that a crack had appeared in her armour, in full view of Boyd, if he chose to see it. But he didn't. He was all business as usual, just turned and entered the room while Grace watched.

The interview started well and she began to have misgivings about her cause for concern, which in turn made her feel guilty for having worried in the first place. Then Boyd did exactly what Grace thought he would; broke his promise and stressed the boy. And in that moment, she really want to string *him* up.

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When Cyril commented that Grace was attractive, Boyd felt a surge of jealousy, which brought feelings to the surface which he thought were long dead and buried. Did he really still feel that way about her or was it just his natural protectiveness when it came to his lifelong friend? And then the way Grace flirted back... Boyd felt his blood beginning to boil. But then, after she had opened the door for Cyril, she looked over her shoulder at him and rolled her eyes. And there was a twinkle there, a certain look she seemed to reserve for him. And for the briefest of seconds, he started to believe in miracles.

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*The Fall, February 2007*

In the re-enactment, Grace was the pair of lovers, Boyd the killer. She had suggested it that way on purpose, because she knew how the killer would react; furious, jealous, flying into a rage. If Boyd had been the lovers, Grace wouldn't have had to act like that. It would have surfaced naturally. Because like it or not, after so many long damned years, the feelings she thought were long dead and buried had reappeared, and the irony was, she hadn't even given them her permission to do so. She kept telling herself it wasn't true, that it was simply because she and Boyd had known each other all their lives, but later on, when Grace saw him with the journalist, she knew it wasn't true. Over forty years too late, she was in love with her best friend.

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It stung when she told him that the title Calvin had just quoted was her new book. It was the almost condescending look on her face, the plastered smile that said he didn't know anything about her professional work outside of her job in the cold case unit. And it stung, the thought that she thought he wasn't interested. Or more, the fact she thought she *knew* he wasn't interested. Nothing could be further from the truth. He knew all the books she had written, all the papers too. Whether he actually read them or not was a different matter: the closest he got was the book reviews. But he would pick up her literature in the shops, smile at the photo and the blurb on the back. He had always kept up with her professional life, even when they weren't talking. He wasn't about to stop now.

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*"You're a heartless man, Boyd. You spend too much time with the dead to care about the living."*

If that was true, why did he miss his son every single minute of every single day? Why did he find his heart ached when he looked at his best friend, wishing they could rewind the clocks forty years, or more? If it was true, then why did he get angry with suspects? Why did he lash out at the team? Why reach for the bottle at the end of the day to numb himself?

He reached for his phone, his fingers moving to dial a familiar number, but he stopped himself. She wouldn't tell him what he wanted to hear, probably only what he needed to hear, and he knew he wouldn't like that. So he let his hand drop away, and returned to his drinking. And his wishing.

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"What did he mean?"

Grace looked up to see Boyd standing in her doorway. She sighed, knowing this was something that could not be avoided, but she decided to play along anyway. "What did who mean?"

Boyd entered the room fully, running a hand through his hair. "Calvin, for Christ's sake! Grace, you know who I meant!"

"Which particular comment are you talking about?" she asked, not looking up from her paperwork.

"When he asked you if you were finally rid of him, him being me!" Boyd replied, his voice rising.

"I'm not deaf, Boyd!" Grace told him, bringing her hand down flat on the desk harder than intended, her voice a little more shrill than she realised.

He stopped in front of her desk and looked at her. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Calvin's comment. Come on, Grace, keep up!"

"Oh, that comment." She sighed and leant back in her chair. "It was a sharing of information to get him to open up. I told him of a dream I had about not being able to breath because there's an animal on my chest, weighing me down." She looked away, not able to hold his gaze. "I thought Calvin was going to say it was authority; he said it was you."

Boyd stared at Grace's turned head, his face a mask. "Me. Sat on...your chest?"

She finally looked back at him and rolled her eyes. "It's a metaphor, Boyd, not an actuality. It means...."

"That I'm restraining you, suffocating you, is that it?" Boyd asked incredulously.

"Put in simplest terms, yes," Grace replied somewhat stiffly.

Several things clicked into place in his head at once. When they were interviewing Calvin and he asked Grace to leave...afterwards, she was...almost afraid that she couldn't read him. She needed reassurance and he didn't give it to her. And just before, when Grace walked into the interview room, she deliberately sat with her shoulder flush against his, as though drawing strength from him, and he had moved away because he thought she was about to go off on a psychobabble rant. But she hadn't. She had come up with Calvin's weakness. Yet Grace had been right. The whole situation between them made Boyd want to scream in frustration and rip his hair out. He just couldn't understand what was going on with Grace lately. She was uptight with him - frozen, almost – accusing him of being unprofessional while he said she was jealous. It was almost as though they were children again, poking at each other in their prams. It was ridiculous. Unfortunately, that one word ended up coming out.

"Ridiculous," Boyd scoffed.

"You would say that," Grace replied before she could stop herself.

He stared at her. "Is that what you think, that I'm suppressing you? Do you agree with Calvin?"

"I...I've never thought about it before, Boyd, if you want the truth," she replied honestly.

"And now?" he pressed.

Grace held his stare, could see the raw anger behind his eyes, the pain, and the worrying deadness that seemed to be appearing. And she knew that the pain, at least, was being mirrored in her own eyes.

"And now...I have work to do," she said with a note of finality, putting her glasses on and lowering her head again.

Boyd knew he did the same, shut people out; he was an expert at it. But to see Grace doing it so well...he didn't know what to think. So he did what he was good at; he walked out of her office and into his own, slamming the door loudly behind himself.

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Boyd's chivalry reminded Grace why she loved him in the first place, as a friend if not more. Even though her and Eve disobeyed him, the fact that he told them to stay while he and Stella went into Calvin's house was almost amusing. Both of them were just as capable of taking care of themselves as the officers were, but he wanted to protect them. And then, in the house, she followed Boyd as naturally as Stella went with Eve.

And then Calvin had appeared, thinking Boyd and Grace were his parents, and if not for the seriousness of the situation, both of them would have laughed at that absurd notion, not really realising they were parents...to the team. Then when Calvin went to attack Grace first, Boyd didn't even think before moving between them, and Grace never doubted for a moment that he would do anything differently.

And when she saw him holding the mortally wounded Bailey, Grace remembered once again why she loved him. And when Boyd looked at her, saw that indescribable expression on her face, he remembered why he loved her as well. For that brief moment, they were good again.

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*Mask Of Sanity, February 2007*

Grace watched Spencer and Boyd joking together about the 'sensitive policing memo' and saying Grace was just worried they would beat the crap out of their suspects, and she felt...sickened. She expected that from Boyd, but Spencer... She was worried he was being corrupted. Eve suddenly ran away, but left her incense there, citing something about calming, memories.... Grace wasn't really listening. She had other things on her mind. But Boyd noticed her distracted state, and he was worried about her, worried about her change in personality. She seemed so much...harsher, but he knew he was the only one who had noticed. No one else on the team thought that anything was wrong...as always, Boyd was the bad guy. He was always the bad guy. And he was fine with that, as long as Grace was by his side. But now she wasn't...now she was acting oddly.... It all just seemed so futile.

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When Grace demanded to see him, and James said Boyd should get help for the voices in his head, he couldn't help but laugh. For Grace's voice inside his head, there was no cure. She had always been there, in his thoughts in his mind, in his heart and soul; his conscience always sounded surprisingly like Grace whenever it spoke to him, which was often. And when he went out into the observation room, and she told him James could easily kill him, he was surprised. Not only that James was capable of such anger, but that Grace was trying to protect Boyd. After all the trouble they'd been going through lately, it was a great surprise to him. But a nice one.

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"Are you aware of what you've done?" Grace asked after a moment.

Boyd looked up, his expression a mask of genuine remorse, but she managed not to see it. "Of course I am."

Grace stared at him, hard. "Are you?" she asked, an edge to her tone.

But Boyd wasn't having taking the whole blame. "Don't start, Grace," he said, but it was without anger. "You knew what I was going to do, you could have said 'don't'. You could have stopped me any time. What I was struggling with James, you could have helped me. You're usually nagging in my ear, why not that time?"

"I see. So now it's my fault?"

"I never said that," Boyd replied, rising.

"You don't have to. It seems to be inferred in your tone," Grace replied.

Boyd stopped with his hand on the door, his back to her. "Now or generally?"

And when no answer was forthcoming, he left.

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No one else blamed him, no one else thought he was solely to blame, yet whenever he caught her eyes, she was cold, unforgiving. She blamed him. It was all his fault, there were no two ways about it. She wanted to say 'I told you so', he could see it in her face. He had never seen her looking at him like that...like she hated him. And it hurt, like being stabbed.

Which was why he exploded later, at Eve and Stella, though it wasn't them he was angry at. It was her. And he did feel better once he had shouted at her, but that frozen mask on her face showed her she really didn't care. And he wondered what had happened to them. Wondered where they had gone wrong.

And when Eve told him about the caning, and she followed him into the observation room, not a word was spoken between them. He wondered if things would ever go back to the way they were.

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Grace was waiting for Boyd in his office when he returned from the lab. She was holding a file, using it like a shield. Sitting down next to her on the couch, Boyd dropped his voice.

"The unknown saliva sample on the bag belongs to Sophie," he told her.

She looked at him, surprised, but not as much as she should have been. But this was Grace. "This is the adoption application," she replied, looking at the file, which was now flat in her lap. Shield dropped. "They've been rejected."

Boyd sighed. "We need a confession. And we need to find James."

Grace nodded in agreement. "Just sit and watch me. When the time's right, come in and arrest her."

"Okay." As she was leaving, Boyd's voice stopped her. "Grace."

"Yes?"

"About...this case, about me stressing Jensen, about you being right, about...whatever the hell is happening between us," he said, gesturing in frustration. "We need to talk about it."

Grace held his gaze for a moment. "Now is not the time," she replied and walked off.

As Boyd watched her in the interview room, he tried to put his finger on what had changed. She was still the same professionally, but towards him, she was increasingly distant. No, he didn't help matters, he knew that, but he never had. He had always been the same, and still Grace had endured. Why it seemed like she was giving up on him now, he didn't know, and he didn't think he'd get an answer if he did ask.

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Long after James' body had been removed, long after Spencer and Stella had taken Sophie away, Grace and Boyd stood in the same corridor at the top of the abandoned home. They hadn't spoken a word to each other since arriving, since watching James die. Eve had taken the knife to forensics, and found out that Ricardo Revelli was responsible for James' death. Boyd ordered his immediate arrest. But he and Grace didn't speak. Finally, for once, he made the first move.

"How long do we have to stay here before you talk to me?" he asked quietly.

"Is that what you were waiting for?" Grace replied.

"What were you waiting for?"

"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me."

"This is the problem, Grace, you won't even try me!"

"I'd be wasting my breath," she told him in exasperation.

Boyd looked at her, trying to read her and failing miserably. "So that's it. You're not even going to try and explain things to me. You're just going to carry on the way you've been, happy to let everyone else think I'm the one being difficult when clearly we're both to blame!"

"Oh, really?" She sounded sarcastic.

"Yes, really, Grace. It takes two to tango, you know!"

"Don't use sex references to get your point across, Boyd!" Grace shouted at him heatedly.

"I wasn't," he replied, taken aback.

"Just because you're not getting any, don't take it out on me," she griped.

Boyd could only stare. "Is that what you think? That because I'm a man, on my own, my hormones are getting the better of me and they're making me grouchy? For Christ's sake, Grace!" He threw his arms in the air and began to pace. Then an insane idea came to him, one he would never voice normally, but decided to now. "Or is it because you're not getting any, Grace? Hmm? Is that it?"

She stiffened immediately. "My love life...."

"We were talking about sex."

"It's the same thing!"

"Is it? Oh, that's right, I forgot. You're a woman and they're always the same thing!"

"Forget it, Boyd! Just forget it!" Grace started to storm off, more than ready to get out of that place and go home.

"Or is it because you're not getting any from me?" Boyd asked quietly.

Grace stopped halfway down the steps and turned incredulously. *"What?"*

"You heard me."

"That ship sailed a very long time ago, Peter," she reminded him.

"I know; you were the one that made it sail, Grace," he reminded *her*. "And now you've changed your mind?" He walked towards her slowly, purposefully, and she felt her body betray her by her knees weakening. "It's a little too late for that. Thirty odd years too late, Grace." His voice was low, almost cruel. "So you had better pull yourself together and stop acting like a teenager, Grace. Stop blaming everything on me just because you are having regrets."

He pulled away and walked off, didn't wait for her, didn't ask if she needed a lift, and she didn't shout for him to stay. He had noticed. God help her, he had actually noticed what she didn't want him to notice. And there was now no turning back.

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*Double Bind, March 2007*

Grace reached her car, fumbled with the keys and dropped them on the floor, the sound reverberating around the empty car park. It was only then that she realised she was shaking violently. She wasn't sure why the argument had upset her so much, but it had, though if she took the time to look at it objectively and professionally, she was fairly certain she could come up with a reason or two. All Grace was certain of was that the cumulation of stress over the past eighteen months, at the very least, had finally come to a head, resulting in her leaving the unit, perhaps permanently, and Boyd sat in his office looking dumbstruck.

Finally, she managed to get the key in the lock and slide gratefully into the driver's seat. She knew she had to calm down before driving away; such behaviour would be extremely reckless and could only end in tragedy, and she didn't want that. For a moment she imagined Boyd coming out to find her, apologising for his actions. Perhaps even taking her hand or brushing the hair from her face like he used to do. Nothing romantic, as that ship had long ago sailed, just a show of how close they were as friends. Although lately, Grace had been wondering if those feelings were resurfacing, at least for her. In her mind, it would explain why she and Boyd argued so much over trivial things.

But no one came out and the longer she sat there, the more Grace came to realise he wasn't going to rush after her. Once again, she would have to go to him. Having stopped shaking a few moments ago, she now started again but this time in anger and righteous indignation. Why did he always make her do all the leg work? Why was it always her running to him? Well, not this time. This time Grace decided that if Boyd wanted her back, he would have to make the effort, and if he didn't...well, she didn't hold much faith in their friendship surviving along with their professional relationship.

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Sitting down heavily, one of Grace's books open in his hands, Boyd wondered how they reached this point. The point of not talking, the point where she had felt the only solution was to leave indefinitely, the point where every time he lifted the phone to talk to her, no words came out. And the worst part was, he didn't know how to fix the problem, or even if he wanted to. Part of him did, but it was for the good of the team and his own reputation. As for their friendship, so much had happened recently, so much arguing, more than normal, and so much pain that he didn't know how they could possibly move forwards without simply forgetting the past, and that was as likely to happen as hell was to freeze over.

Yet sat in her room, where everything was uniquely Grace, even the atmosphere, Boyd wondered why he was so ready to throw it all away. Was he so tired of the arguing that he didn't care any more? But he knew he was just as guilty of starting and feeding the arguments as Grace was, the only difference being he admitted it whereas she tried to put the blame on him. Perhaps that was the problem; bad enough being blamed when it *was* his fault, even worse being blamed when it wasn't. Or maybe it was just simply that he and Grace had known each other far too long. They knew exactly which buttons to press to get a rise out of the other, exactly what to say to hurt, or to make each other smile. They cared, perhaps too damned much, and maybe that was the problem. If that was the case, they had found themselves in a situation which could not be fixed.

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When Grace had reappeared in the unit without warning, when she had caught his eye and smiled, Boyd was almost ready to believe in miracles. But he also noticed the tightness in her features, the way the smile didn't quite reach her eyes; she had returned for the team and the case, not for him. They would talk a little about the case, perhaps mention in passing what had happened between them, but they would never have their closure. Once upon a time, perhaps, but it seemed they had moved too far past that point. Whatever had started their downward spiral was so far in the past that neither could now remember, but neither were willing to simply let go.

A gentle knock on the door made Boyd look up. "Hi," he said with a faint smile.

"Hi," Grace replied, entering his office.

"So...."

"Not the result we were expecting."

"It never is. But it's the right one."

"The true result. I'm not sure it's the 'right' one."

"You mean you're not sure it's the just one."

"It's the same difference, Boyd," Grace said wearily.

He just nodded. "You should go home. I'll see you in the morning."

She nodded, turned, and started across the room. "And, Boyd?" Grace said just as she reached the doorway.

"Yes?" he replied, turning.

"The next time you use my books, can you please put them back in the right place?" she asked, the smile slightly forced. She almost added, 'Or even better, don't make me leave in the first place,' but decided that discretion was the better part of valour and kept quiet.

Boyd just nodded. "I will do."

Watching the stiffness in her frame as she walked away, the feeling she had returned just for the team and not him came back twice as strong, and he decided that realisation hurt more than anything else ever had. With a sigh, he reached for the bottom drawer and the comfort of the bottle which never judged him, never argued with him, and definitely never hurt him.

Outside in the corridor, unbeknownst to Boyd, Grace was watching him. She had returned for the team and the case, yes, but also because he had asked her to. He hadn't come right out and said the words, but she had seen the missed calls on her phone, the number of hits on her answer machine where no message had been left. And most were from her office, with a few from Boyd's own phones. She had known it was him. But it would take far more than that to repair the damage, and the fact she had just seen him pouring himself the first of many whiskeys meant that further apologies of any kind wouldn't be forthcoming. Sighing, Grace took Boyd's advice and went home, caring less about his drinking habits than she used to and not even worrying her apparent apathy towards her old friend.

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*Yahrzeit, March 2007*

When he asked if he could have a word, she panicked. It was irrational, she knew. They were back on relatively normal terms but still, the mild manner in which he spoke still worried her. She had seen it in practice many times and it never had a good ending. But he surprised her, like he seemed to do on occasion, by being courteous, even caring, asking how she was and seeming to genuinely care. And she wondered if things were starting to improve for them. Especially later, when he gave her a compliment, a sincere one at that, Grace really thought things were looking up.

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As Sarah read the translation of the diary, Grace watched her carefully. She had respect for the woman on a professional level, but she could *sense* that Sarah was a threat, in some way, to hers and Boyd's relationship. And so she watched her, trying to find some weakness, but there was nothing more than the usual things people had wrong with them. But unknown to Grace, Boyd was watching *her*. He couldn't get over the look of envy in her eyes over someone he hadn't really looked at in that way. Sure, he admired Sarah; she had balls and he admired that a great deal. But actually looking at her in a sexual way.... Boyd hadn't, but now he was starting to.

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"Boyd!" Grace called, coming into the squad room. "I thought you might want to..." She stopped when she saw Boyd tidying up his desk, looking like he was ready to leave. "You're finishing already?"

He looked up, mildly surprised. "Yeah. We're all done here, and I...."

"You have plans."

"As a matter of fact, I do."

"With who?" Grace asked in surprise.

Boyd stared at her. "With Sarah," he replied eventually.

Grace couldn't help but laugh. "Sarah? But she's in America!" Her laughter quickly subsided when she say his expression. "You're going to America?" She shook her head in disbelief. "You're going to America."

"Is that so hard to believe?" he asked, his temper starting to make an appearance.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, it is! You've only just met her!"

"Don't you want me to be happy?" Boyd yelled.

"This isn't happiness!" Grace replied. "This is...."

"Don't you *dare* bring psychology into this! And don't tell me what makes me happy and what doesn't!"

"I know you, Boyd!"

"Do you?"

Grace stared at him. "You're right. Sometimes I wonder." She shook her head. "Fine. Go, chase after your 'dream'. Be happy. But if you ever wake up and actually start paying attention to people around you, to their feelings, let me know because that is something I've *never* seen before in you and I like to see unusual things."

For once, Grace didn't give Boyd chance to respond, instead turning smartly on her heel and marching out of the office, her head held high. Boyd, for his part, could only stare at her retreating back. He was almost certain she had just been trying to tell him something, but exactly what was anyone's guess. With a frustrated sigh, he ran a hand through his hair and debated about having a drink. But he promised Sarah he'd call her to let her know if he was going to visit or not, and he found he would rather do that from home than the office. Gathering his things together, he turned off the lights and left, wondering if Grace would come to her senses soon, but finding he was well past caring.  
TBC


	12. Interlude - Season 6 to 7

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*July 2007*

Boyd never realised he could be so happy. After his acrimonious divorce from Mary, his near disastrous relationship with Jess, and the few failed attempts at courting after that, Boyd thought that his chance for happiness had long disappeared. But then he had met Sarah, and suddenly, almost overnight, his faith in contentment had been restored.

It was true, she had as much baggage as he did, but it didn't matter. They were willing to try and that was all that counted to Boyd. And it had been surprisingly easy, so far at least. There had been none of the arguments he expected to suffer; no conflict over anything, not even how much time he spent in America, or Sarah spent in England. They simple took whatever the other one could give and never asked for anything else.

"So, I'll be over to see you in a few weeks," Sarah said as they rode to the airport.

Boyd nodded. "Just let me know when you've booked a ticket."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "No, I thought I'd just turn up on your doorstep."

"I wouldn't object to that either," he replied with a smile.

"Yeah, you would. Besides," Sarah added, staring out of the window, "You probably wouldn't be there. You'd be at work, and I doubt I'd be welcome there."

Boyd frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on, Boyd, I saw the way your team looked at me while I was in England, like I'm the Wicked Witch of the Wild West or something just as stupid."

"I don't think my team have thoughts about you one way or the other," Boyd objected. "And if they did, it's none of their business."

Sarah smiled at him. "They're also your friends, or at least Grace is. Isn't she?"

For some reason, Boyd's gut reaction was to be defensive and he had no idea why. Perhaps it was simply because he hadn't confided in Sarah the full extent of his relationship with Grace, or maybe he was worried his girlfriend would read something into the friendship that wasn't there to be seen. Whatever his motives for keeping the secret, keep it he did and he had no intention of sharing it any time soon.

"I suppose," he replied nonchalantly.

But Sarah had watched his face as the emotions played so blatantly across it, and his long hesitation didn't go unnoticed either. But it wasn't the right time to question him about it; maybe it never would be. Looking up, Sarah saw that, thankfully, they had arrived at the airport, and she leant over to kiss Boyd's cheek.

"I know you hate goodbyes so...." She smiled. "I'll see you later."

Boyd kissed her properly. "I'll call when I get back." He got out of the cab, grabbed his bag from the trunk, and walked into the terminal without looking back.

Grace never realised she could be so unhappy. Though her life had seen many ups and downs, some higher and lower than others, she had always pulled through, but this was different. This was like falling into a bottomless pit with straight, slippery sides; no escape whatsoever. And the worst part was, Grace didn't even realise how she had arrived in such a place, though if she really wanted to, she supposed she could figure it out.

She knew Boyd fancied Sarah; having known him all his life, she could read the signs better than the written word. And Grace also knew that her own feelings concerning her friend and colleague were her own problem; she'd had the chance with him many years ago and blown it, and to ask for a reprieve now would have been too much. But she realised that their friendship had somehow disintegrated, and without her really noticing, when she found out from Stella, of all people, that Boyd was officially dating Sarah.

The news had stung like a severe whip stroke by a cat-o'-nine-tails. Grace knew the young DC picked up on her distress before the profiler was able to force a smile onto her face, and Stella had been understandably uncomfortable afterwards. It wasn't her fault, Grace knew, and she had tried to make the young woman understand that. Grace's pain was her own, though what she had done to deserve such treatment from Boyd, she didn't know.

Their friendship had been deteriorating for months now, ever since Spencer almost died and Stella betrayed the team, but Grace felt the problems stemmed from sometime before that. Was it Mel's death? Or did it go even further back than that? She didn't really want to know.

And now, when she did see Boyd, his manner towards her was cool, as though they were nothing more than occasional colleagues, or worse, strangers. There was a barrier between them that Grace didn't know how to break, and Boyd didn't seem to want to. So all she could do was stand and watch things unfolding.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*September 2007*

As Boyd stood outside the building, he found his hands were shaking and he was actually quite nervous. It was the first possible new bit of information he'd had on Joe for... Boyd shook his head. He didn't want to think how long it had been; too long was the answer. Again he wondered at his luck, about how he found this place. It was been Sarah's idea to try harder to find Boyd's son; they had discussed Joe many times when they saw each other and she told him how important it was to put more effort into locating him.

*"I'll never get my closure," Sarah said one evening. "My husband was killed, but so were the terrorists. And the ones who organised the whole damn thing...well, who knows where they are? You don't know how important that closure is, how it'll help you move forward."

"I don't even know where to start," Boyd admitted. "I've thought about it so many times, but never acted on it."

"Why, Peter? Are you afraid that Joe wouldn't love you still? Or that he'd hate you more?" Sarah propped herself up on an elbow. "Or is your biggest fear finding out that he's actually done pretty well for himself and doesn't need you at all?"

"All of the above and a few more reasons besides those," Boyd replied, brushing her arms with the backs of his fingers. "And it's difficult to know where to start."

Sarah smiled. "It is. But you've got to start some place. Look, maybe you can get in touch with some agencies who deal with homeless people, see if they've come across your son. Check the shelters, the soup kitchens...hell, even check the churches."

"Churches?" Boyd repeated incredulously.

"Whenever people are in need, they always seem to drift towards churches and chapels, even if they're not religious."*

Boyd had taken her words on board but never really intended to do anything about it. But when he got back to England, Joe's face haunted him more than normal and he started to think that maybe Sarah had been right, that it was time to put some proper effort into looking for his son. So he had started the laborious task of phoning around places, sometimes going to visit if they had someone matching Joe's description. It wasn't time consuming, as the cases of mistaken identity were few and far between, but it was draining for Boyd. It all reminded him of the early days when Joe went missing, when other police officers and coroners would call him if they had a body of an unidentified young male. But that soon stopped, and about the same time Boyd seemed to give up. He had no excuse really, except that if Joe didn't want to be found, there was nothing Boyd could do.

But then he got a lead from a shelter who told him that St. Luke's Church, situated in London centre, often helped homeless people, alcoholics, drug addicts; anyone with a problem was made welcome. Boyd discussed it with Sarah and she prompted him to at least visit the place and see what came of it.

And now Boyd was stood outside the church, situated in a busy part of London, right off the high street, wondering whether he really wanted to go inside or not. But he knew if he didn't, Sarah would give him hell for at least a month, so taking a deep breath and steeling himself, Boyd pushed the doors open and stepped inside. Immediately a sense of calm washed over him, and the madness of London suddenly seemed like a world away.

"Hello, can I help you?"

Boyd was having time adjusting to the dim interior, but in the candlelight he saw a man coming towards him. "Yes. My name is...Peter Boyd." He'd almost announced that he was a police officer but he didn't think that was such a good idea. "I heard that you help...troubled people and I...." Boyd took a deep breath. "I'm looking for my son."

As the man came closer, Boyd could see they were about the same height, but the priest was slimmer, though certainly not thin. His hair was black, though greying at the temples, and his face seemed to carry far too many lines for his age. But then he smiled and the expression transformed him entirely.

"Welcome to St. Luke's," he said, holding his hand out. Boyd caught more than just a trace of an Irish accent, very easy on the ears. "Would you like a drink? Tea or coffee?"

"Either, thank you," Boyd replied.

"Come through to the back, it'll be easier for you to talk there." The man started to walk away, then turned back. "I'm sorry, where are my manners? My name is Andrew." Then he turned back and carried on walking.

Five minutes later, they were seated in Andrew's office. "Thank you," Boyd said as the priest handed him a cup of tea.

"You're welcome. Now, how can I help?"

Boyd was a silent for a while. "This...isn't easy for me, Father...."

"Andrew, please," the priest interrupted. "I find it far easier to listen to. 'Father' always makes me feel old."

Boyd had the good grace to smile. "Alright. Andrew." He sipped his tea. "My son disappeared about ten years ago...."

Andrew held up his hand. "You said this isn't easy for you, so let me make it easy. You don't want to have to justify yourself to me or anybody else, and you don't see why you should explain why you came here to find your son. You simply want answers to questions, so why don't we just go with that? And then afterwards, if you want to talk, I will of course listen."

"You're a very unusual priest."

"I wish I could say you're an unusual police officer, but I'm afraid I would be lying," Andrew replied.

"How...?" Boyd started to ask sharply.

Andrew simply laughed. "I have known a few policemen in my time and all conduct themselves the same way. And," he said, taking a drink of his tea, "Your son told me about your profession."

Boyd felt cold, chilled to the bone. "Joe...was here?"

"Yes, he was, and I find myself in a predicament. What was discussed between us was confidential, yet I can see in your eyes so much pain. You want to find your son."

"I do."

"Then I will tell you what I can." Andrew sat back. "I found Joe on the steps of the church some time last year. He had overdosed on cocaine and passed out, so I carried him inside, cleaned him up, fed and watered him, and then when he woke up, I listened. We talked about a great many things, at least once he had recovered from the withdrawal symptoms of the drugs. He told me about his mother and his father...you. He told me of his life on the streets."

"He doesn't want to be found," Boyd stated.

Andrew shook his head. "He wasn't ready last year. Now it might be different, and if he comes here again, I will certainly let you know, if you will leave me your card?"

Boyd nodded, having not really expected anything different. "How long was he here for?" he asked as he fished a card from his wallet.

"A few months. And no, I haven't seen him since."

"Thank you for your time, Fa-...Andrew," Boyd said, standing and extending his hand.

"You're welcome, Peter," he replied. "If you wish to come at any time, please do."

"Thank you."

"There is one other thing. While your son was here, he decided to change his name. Just his first name," Andrew said quickly as Boyd's expression changed.

*'Christ, could this hurt any more?'* he thought. "To what?" he asked out loud.

A faint smile touched Andrew's lips. "Luke."

Boyd nodded, shook hands with the priest, and left the church silently, his thoughts all-consuming. Outside the hustle and bustle hit him like a speeding train; the people, the noise, the car fumes, the traffic...all of it. He walked numbly, his brain on overload, until he found a small park and an empty bench to sit down on. Reaching into his pocket, Boyd took out his mobile but his thumb hovered over two of his speed dial buttons. One would put him through to Sarah, the other to Grace, and for a second, he couldn't decide who he wanted to talk to. But it was only a second. He knew things between him and Grace couldn't get any worse than they already were, so not telling her about his son wouldn't matter. But still there was a nagging sense of guilt gnawing at his gut and Boyd couldn't understand why, nor could he shake it. To take his mind off things, he pressed a button, and it was only afterwards he wondered if it was the right one or not. But when that familiar voice with an American twang answered, he didn't feel as happy as he thought he would do.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*December 2007*

The mood in Grace's house as they ate Christmas dinner could have been described as grave at best; no words had been invented to describe it at worst. Eve and Stella tried their best to bring some levity to the festive seasons, but Grace was about as receptive as an ice cube is to a heat wave, and Spencer was practising scowling. He had it off to a fine art.

Finally, after they had eaten and the dishes had been washed, the kids made their excuses and left, and while Grace would have normally been at least a little upset, that day she was glad to be alone. Well, that wasn't exactly true. The simple fact of the matter was it hadn't felt like Christmas at all without Boyd being there. Though after their last encounter, she wasn't at all surprised by his absence.

*"Boyd, have you got a minute?" Grace asked, knocking on his door.

He looked up and frowned. "Only a minute. I've got a plane to catch."

Her smile slid from her face like water from a duck's back. "Oh. I see. In that case, there's no point in me wasting a minute for something I already know the answer to." With that, she turned and walked back to her office.

Less than a minute later, Boyd followed her. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said."

"How do you know the answer will be no?" he asked mulishly.

Grace sighed. "Why do you always have to turn everything into an argument?"

"I do not...," Boyd started to reply heatedly, then stopped and scowled. "You're always right, aren't you? The Great Grace, completely infallible."

"Dammit, Boyd, this is exactly what I'm talking about!" He would have expected the words to have more impact as an exclamation, but when Grace spoke them as quietly as she did, it was like a ton of bricks being dropped on him. "You always have to lash out at someone, and sometimes it's for no reason at all. Like now. I was going to ask if you would be here for Christmas, and if you were, would we be having it at mine or yours, but you answered that question for me the minute you said you have a flight to catch. You won't be here, and before I forget, thank you for telling me." Again, there was no bitterness, no recriminating tone, just the statement of a simple fact, however sarcastically worded, and an overtone of disappointment. "Though I shouldn't have expected any better. You've hardly spoken to me for months now. It's almost like you don't need me now you have Sarah. If I had known almost sixty years of friendship was worth so little to you, I wouldn't have put so much effort into it. And I know no one asked me to; it was my choice and I never regretted it...until now. Even when we weren't talking - again, my choice – I...hell, Boyd, I never felt as useless as I do now. I've reached a point I never thought I'd get to; the point of no return. I thought it had happened before, when you started attacking my professionalism...when I left for a while. But I was wrong; that was just the beginning. This is the point of no return. You're entitled to your life, Boyd, and to love someone, but ask yourself; is it worth it at the expense of your friends? Do you think we'll still be here if things go wrong with Sarah and you need someone to talk to? Do you?"

"Grace, this is..." Boyd tried, and failed to finish.

"Not the time for this conversation?" Grace guessed. "No, you're right. It's far too close to Christmas. That's another tradition you've quite happily just thrown out of the window without a second thought for anyone but yourself. I'm not saying you needed to ask permission, before you even think it, but you've known you wouldn't be here for a while. Was it too much to ask for you to tell me?" She shook her head sadly. "What am I saying? Of course it was. You always have to prove me wrong, don't you, Boyd? Proved you could manage on your own without me when I thought you wouldn't. Proved you're not repressed, depressed, unloved and unwanted. Sometimes I wonder if you do things just to prove me wrong. Do you get a kick from it?"

"Now wait just a damned...."

"No, I won't. Too long I've had to listen to you rant and rave, and for no apparent reason," Grace continued regardless. "It's time you listened to me when I have legitimate grievances. You are only committed to one thing, Boyd; your job. Sarah's the same. I just wonder how long it will take for you both to realise that. You can't change overnight, Boyd. In fact, you probably can't change at all, and your stubborn refusal to see that will end up with both you and Sarah getting hurt. And the icing on the cake is how easily you can talk to her. We've known each other all our lives, but she's the one you turn to. What's wrong with me? Is it the Ph.D.? The fact I'm a Doctor and not a Mrs or a Miss? Or is it something to do with me personally?" She shook her head again. "Do you even know what you want, Boyd, or are you just running away all the time?"

He stared at her for a long while, his expression showing nothing. "I have to go," he said eventually, and turned away.

"Since you like proving me wrong, Boyd, do it now," Grace called. "Don't run away from this; stay and work it out. Be a man." But the slamming of the other door that led out of Boyd's office told her he hadn't heeded her words at all. Closing her eyes and throwing her glasses on her desk, Grace started to swear. "Shit, shit, shit,* shit."

She hadn't heard from Boyd or seen him since, even though almost two weeks had passed. She didn't know how long if he was staying in the States, or even if he'd be coming back at all. For the first time in a long time, she found she didn't know anything about her oldest friend's life, and she was starting to have to the feeling she didn't even know him, if she ever had at all. As she listened to the sounds of her house, Grace also noted how quiet the streets were. Everyone was with someone during the festive period...everyone except her. The children she had raised as her own had deserted her long ago. The friend she had known since infancy, a man she could have spent her life with, had deserted her. And her friends, her colleagues, couldn't escape from her house quick enough earlier, and although she had let them go, it still felt like desertion. Raising her glass mockingly, Grace saluted herself.

"Merry Christmas," she said, her tone bitter as the wind outside, her mood as bleak as the weather.

TBC


	13. Season 7

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*Missing Persons, April 2008*

As Boyd sat in the taxi with Sarah, he couldn't help recalling the words that had echoed through his mind for months now, keeping him awake. The words Grace hadn't yelled at him, simply spoken quietly. The words that were the truth he didn't want to admit. And now Sarah was leaving, as unwilling to give up her life as he was his. It had been a good thing while it lasted, but he had always known it couldn't last forever. But still, for a short time, he had hoped.

Despite the very real possibility Boyd would never see Sarah again, he didn't look at her. He couldn't. He kept his eyes on the seat in front, Grace's words swimming in his vision, taunting him. She had been right. She was always right. And it had taken him almost sixty years to realise it. That was an ice-cold sobering thought instantly. He was nearly sixty, and what had he done with his life? He had taken joy from the fact someone younger, someone like Sarah, could take a fancy to him, and his pride had benefited from the attraction as well. But she was as damaged as he was, and he didn't have to be a psychologist to know that the chances of them forming a long lasting, beneficial relationship was next to impossible. There was only one person in Boyd's life who'd had a beneficial impact on him and that was Grace. And he had And he had hurt her so badly, he wondered if they would ever repair their relationship.

He didn't turn and look at Sarah as the taxi drove away from the airport. He had more important things on his mind, like getting to work, and that thought told him all he needed to know. Boyd could talk to Sarah quite easily, but he had mistaken that friendship, coupled with an attraction, as a relationship instead of lust. What really mattered to him was his work and finding his son. And Grace.

*_*_*_*_*

*"I thought being in love was supposed to make you happy?" Stella asked, surprised at Boyd's surly disposition.

"Uncomplicated casual sex makes you happy; being in love makes you miserable," Spencer replied in a wise voice.

Grace looked up, and when she spoke, her tone was sharper than she wanted it to be. "Who said anything about him being in love?"*

Grace closed her eyes against the memory, the looks on the faces of her colleagues, as though they knew something she didn't. But she did know, that was the trouble. She had spent the last seven years of working in close proximity to Boyd trying to sort out her feelings. It had been Jess Worrell's name that raised the unpleasant notion within Grace that she might actually be in love with Boyd. Then Sarah happened, and the profiler couldn't deny the hurt that almost crippled her. And now Stella was mentioning love... It was like the word was a catalyst, and Grace realised that was what she felt for her lifelong friend. An impossible feeling, an impossible situation. They couldn't be in love, not now... Of course, she was assuming he loved her back. Once upon a time, maybe... Grace shook her head. She had just embarrassed herself in front of the rest of the team, who were now in no doubt whatsoever about her feelings for Boyd. But the thought, the mere notion, of him being in love with someone else was like the clichéd dagger to her heart, and at that point, a decision was made.

Yes, Grace was in love with Boyd...or maybe she should amend that thought to '*still* in love with Boyd'. The profiler was beginning to doubt whether she had ever actually stopped loving him, from the age of seventeen; after all, she had eventually married a man who could have been Boyd's brother, in looks, not temperament. But it didn't matter, because Boyd had managed to fall out of love with her. Now all Grace had to do was figure out how to fall outof love with *him*, for both their sakes.

*_*_*_*_*

It was, Grace decided sarcastically, the perfect end to the perfect day. Case solved, with the usual amount of stress and tension, now it was raining, and she had gotten all the way to the car only to realise her car keys were still on her desk. Typical. Deciding to avoid the desk sergeant's falsely sympathetic expression, Grace slipped in through the back door, bypassing Eve's lab, unsure whether the pathologist was still there or not, wanting to avoid a confrontation with anybody. Working with Boyd again on a case like they had just finished had brought all of her emotions to the front, and all Grace wanted to do was go home and forget about everything.

The offices were quiet, which didn't surprise her at that time of night, although Boyd's absence arose some mild astonishment in her. Then again, she didn't know why. He had probably gone home to be with Sarah or talk to her...Grace wasn't even surprised she didn't know whether the American was in the UK or the US. Boyd didn't inform her about his girlfriend's movements, something the profiler was grateful for.

Grace walked straight into her office, flicking the light switch on as she passed it, and immediately she spotted her keys gleaming at her on the desk. "Why the hell did I take them out of my bag to start with?" she muttered to herself, grabbing them and turning to leave. And almost giving herself a heart attack. "Christ, Boyd! What the hell are you doing sat in here, in the dark, no less?" Her exclamation was heartfelt, and while no expletives were used, they might as well have been.

He actually winced. "I needed...to think. Somewhere peaceful. Quiet. Calming. Best place for all that is in here."

Grace stood frozen to the spot in shock. After almost sixty years of friendship, and more rough patches than she'd had hot dinners, Boyd could still shock her, though whether it was his words, which doubled as an admission, or the fact he was having trouble forming a proper sentence, she didn't know.

"Has something happened?" Grace asked. Even after everything, her concern for him was a reflex action, the way a wife would cook dinner for her worst enemy out of habit.

For a second, Boyd wanted to blurt out everything, how he had been looking for Luke and actually managed to track him; he wanted to tell her the whole story. But he knew he had hurt Grace, something he never thought he could do, and while she might have blown his so-called 'betrayal' out of all proportion, in her eyes, she had still been wronged. To blurt everything out now wouldn't do either of them any good, though he knew he wouldn't be able to hide the truth from her forever. Instead, he started with the most recent thing that had happened.

"Sarah said she loved me."

As Boyd looked up, he thought it was no wonder Grace was staring at him like she was. He hadn't meant to just come out with it like that, but before he could explain, Grace spoke.

"I see."

"No. No, you don't." Boyd stood up and started pacing, and Grace immediately cleared out of his way. "Before this case, I left her at the airport. Neither of us was willing to sacrifice the life we have, so we were just going to be friends. Then this case came along and...well, I didn't think much about it...about her. We talked a couple of times, but...I was an idiot. You were right last Christmas. You were right all the times before that as well; you've always been right."

"Hardly," Grace murmured.

"In comparison to me."

"Ah. In that case, I'm the shining beacon of right."

Boyd nodded. "Exactly. But I just...I can't do whatever it is I'm doing with Sarah. Two damaged people can't help each other, not as damaged as me and Sarah are, anyway." He sat down abruptly. "And I am damaged, Grace; you of all people should know this. You know this better than anyone."

"I think," Grace said quietly, rising from behind her desk and crossing the room, "That anyone who goes through life undamaged must be a hermit." She sat next to him. "But I don't understand. Sarah said she loved you?"

He nodded. "Left a message on my answer machine. I got it just now."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"I thought so."

"And now?" Grace prompted.

"I want to find my son," Boyd admitted. "And I've made some progress. He's changed his name to Luke...." And with that, he found himself launching into the whole story, telling Grace everything that had happened. Sometime during his narrative, she took hold of his hand, supporting and comforting him.

It was sometime after Boyd had finished that Grace spoke up. "What will you do now?"

"Wait until I have a solid fix on Luke's position." It was a lie and Boyd knew it, but he could tell from Grace's expression she hadn't noticed. After all, he *had* found Luke, and then reverted to type by storming out of the place, almost taking the doors of their hinges.

"I meant about Sarah." Grace fixed him with a firm stare. "You can't just ignore her now. She deserves to know the truth."

For a moment, he wondered whether if she was actually talking about herself, but he soon recovered. "You mean tell her that my son is more important than she is?" Boyd asked incredulously. "Isn't that a little harsh?"

"The truth hurts, yes, but a lie is worse, Peter, you know that as well as I do," Grace replied. "Tell her the truth."

"I'll think about it."

"Don't think too long. If you tell her the truth, you're giving her the chance to move on."

Boyd frowned. "Closure?"

"Something like that," Grace said, nodding.

"Right." He stood.

"Where are you going?"

He pointed to his office. "Closure."

Grace smiled, and almost offered to wait for him. But it was too soon, far too soon for their friendship to take a leap back onto such comfortable ground. Instead, she stood too. "Well, good luck."

Boyd smiled a little. "Thanks."

"Night, Boyd."

"Night, Grace."

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*Sins, April 2008*

It was obvious to Boyd that Grace thought that whatever was in the filing cabinet was important, so he looked at Linda. "We're going to be some time doing this, you don't need to hang around."

"Okay, I'll be just outside the door," Linda replied.

As soon as she had left, Boyd looked at Grace. "What do you want?"

Grace's expression was partly amused, partly innocent, and seemed to be saying 'what makes you think I want anything?' Instead, she opened a drawer and took out what looked like a letter opener, handing it to him. "Do your magic, please," she asked him very nicely.

"You've got such faith in me."

*'Yes, I do, though sometimes I wonder why,'* Grace thought fondly as Boyd walked over to the filing cabinet and started to try prising it open.

"What makes you think I've ever done this kind of thing before?" Boyd asked her.

Grace just looked at him, several replies hovering on her lips. 'How about the amount of times you used to open my locked window so you could see me?', she wanted to say. Or even, 'How many locks have you picked or broken in the course of your career so far?' She wanted to remind him of the time they broke into the pantry at his parents' house when they were kids, or the time he picked the lock on her garden shed. But she didn't.

Instead, she ignored his question and replied, "No, you need to do that sliding thing...."

*_*_*_*_*

Boyd sat alone in his office after everyone else had left, not even tempted by the bottle of Scotch in his drawer, just content to sit and stare at nothing. That...*boy* who he had found Luke with...that...*person*.... Boyd found his hands shaking at the memory. Linda Cummings had been right, he was a killer...could *be* a killer. After all....

Boyd shook his head. No. That was different, that was... His heart sank. Who was he trying to kid? If Luke hadn't shouted, he would have dropped the guy without a second thought and what would that have achieved? Luke already hated him; was it possible for his son to despise him any more? Boyd was certain the answer to that question would have been 'yes' if he had turned into a murderer. But the irony, the real bastard irony of the damn situation was that he actually wanted to talk about what had happened, and no one was around.

He had broken off his relationship with Sarah to pursue his son, and while she had seemed understanding when he spoke to her, he suspected she was hurt, and justifiably so. And when she promised not to call again, Boyd had been grateful to her for that. But now he wished she would have a moment of weakness and pick up the phone, even though he knew she wouldn't.

And then there was Grace. Though they hadn't exactly made a real attempt at repairing their relationship, Boyd felt like they were on the right track, so to speak. But even so, she wasn't around for him to talk to. He had hurt her as well; it seemed to be what he was good at, hurting people and especially Grace.

And so, Boyd dealt with his grief, his anger, his guilt, and his shame alone, because he felt that was how he always had been, and how he always would be.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*Duty And Honour, May 2008*

Boyd was staring blankly at nothing when Grace came into his office, and while the expression wasn't all that unusual, the haunted look in his eyes caused her some concern.

"Ready?" she asked.

Boyd looked at her, his expression still blank. Grace couldn't know he was having flashbacks to the man he almost killed, to Luke's horrified expression; she couldn't know because he hadn't told her anything. Wanted to, couldn't find the words or the right time. Couldn't find the damned courage to just bite the bullet and blurt it all out.

Grace took in his expression, his posture, and tried to be deliberately bright. "Eve," she expanded, and was rewarded with a slight glimmer in his eyes. "Everything alright?" Obviously everything was *not* okay, and it was a stupid question to ask, but she felt like it needed to be voiced, the words needed to be spoken.

Yeah, it's fine, Grace...," Boyd replied absently, standing up. "Okay, let's go."

As he followed her from his office, Boyd made up his mind to tell Grace everything, just as soon as the opportunity presented itself. And if it didn't, he'd make one.

*_*_*_*_*

Grace closed her office door, leant against it and sighed. She knew Boyd very well, possibly even better than he knew himself, and she knew something was wrong. It wasn't just breaking up with Sarah, or the last case they had involving Linda Cummings. Grace could hazard a guess at what was bothering her friend, but if he insisted on keeping her in the dark like he was doing, what was she supposed to do? She wanted to help, but how? And without really knowing why, Grace knew Eve knew something, though how the pathologist was involved in it all was a mystery. So, as a concerned friend and colleague, Grace had gone to Eve to try and find out what was wrong with Boyd. She should have known better.

*"Actually I wanted to talk to you about Boyd."

Grace could see Eve's posture becoming defensive, though the scientist hid it well. "Boyd?"

"Hmm." Grace watched as Eve continued trying to extract skin from the hand of the corpse she was holding. "Is there anything I should know about?" the profiler asked.

"I don't know what you mean," Eve replied.*

'Of course you know what I mean,' *Grace thought, but she knew the pathologist was clamming up, so she tried the direct approach. "Anything to do with a boy that he might be looking for?"

"What boy would it be if he were?" Eve asked, trying to sound curious but only succeeding in sounding guilty.

"It would be his son."

The silence in the lab was deafening, and for a moment Grace thought Eve would crack. She held her breath, waiting for the pathologist to verbally confirm what Grace already knew. Everything pointed to Boyd having found his son, from the DSI's distant behaviour, to Eve acting like she was walking on eggshells every time he came into the room. And now, it was obvious the pathologist wanted to say something to Grace, but whether she would or not was a different matter.

Finally, Eve replied. "I see."*

As Grace made her way to her desk, she had known as soon as those words left Eve's lips that they had reached the end of the conversation. It was obvious Boyd had made Eve promise not to tell anyone; only such an oath would make her clam up like she had. In a way, Grace was proud of her. It showed Eve was loyal to Boyd, and the team, and that she cared about him; in some ways, it reminded the profiler of the early days with Mel and Frankie. But at the same time, Grace felt as though she was an exception to the rule; if Boyd really had made Eve promise not to tell anyone, surely that didn't include his oldest friend? Then again, no one knew of their long-standing relationship. It was all a mess and Grace knew she couldn't approach Boyd directly or he'd clam up like Eve did.

Sighing, she put her head in her hands and did something she hadn't done for a very long time; she prayed.

*_*_*_*_*

Boyd hovered in Grace's doorway, waiting for her to look up. "Is something wrong?" she asked, frowning.

"I found Luke."

"Oh." Grace sat back and took her glasses off, an invitation for Boyd to come into the office and take a seat. "What happened?"

"What makes you think anything happened?" Boyd asked.

Grace stared at him. "I'll pretend you didn't just ask me that."

"I was...it was... Christ, Grace, I nearly killed him!" Boyd exclaimed, running a hand through his hair.

Grace tried not to look shocked. "Joe...I mean, Luke?"

"What? No," Boyd snapped, then followed it with a softer, "No." He sighed. "Luke was...with this...man...."

"Oh God." Grace sat forward and reached across the desk to Boyd, not touching him, but offering comfort remotely. "I understand. Go on."

"I grabbed the guy and hung him out of a window," Boyd continued flatly. "We were five storeys up. Then Luke shouted 'Dad!' and I realised what I was doing."

Grace withdrew her arm and began scribbling. "I see."

"What are you doing?" Boyd asked.

"Writing notes."

"On me?" His tone was sharp.

Grace looked up, unperturbed. "Yes. I do for everyone on the team. I'm the psychologist, remember? It's synonymous for counsellor at times. If there's a problem with someone on the team, I need to know where it could be stemming from."

Boyd looked at her solemnly. "So I take it the file on me is pretty extensive."

Grace smiled. "Fairly. Considering what I know about you, though, it could be a lot thicker."

"You wouldn't breach this confidence, would you, Dr Foley?"

"Only to my replacement."

The humour evaporated from the atmosphere like dew on a summer morning. A knot formed in Boyd's chest as he realised, once again, he didn't know how to live without Grace. Even when they weren't talking, she was always in his thoughts, and having found her again, Boyd wasn't prepared to lose her.

"Are you leaving?" he asked, silently cursing the catch in his voice.

Grace looked at him, surprised. "What? No, of course not." She smiled. "It's standard procedure, Boyd, amongst psychologists. Take our notes away and we're pretty useless."

Boyd fixed her with a fond stare. "I wouldn't say that at all."

"You're too kind."

"No, I'm not."

"Boyd, listen to me. You didn't drop this lad from the building," Grace said. "You didn't hurt him."

Boyd's eyes were dark with raw emotion. "Linda Cummings said...."

Grace held her hand up. "Whatever she said is irrelevant," she told him, her tone firm. "You beat her, she was lashing out, trying to get a reaction from you because she always has to win. You are not a killer or a murderer, Boyd. Whatever you do, don't dwell on anything Linda has said to you."

Boyd nodded and stood. "Thanks, Grace." He got to the doorway before he turned back. "Do you want to go for a drink?"  
*'Yes!'* Grace's inner voice screamed. But outwardly she smiled apologetically. Things were definitely better between them, but their relationship still needed a lot of healing. "Not tonight, sorry. I've got...."

"Things to do, papers to write." Boyd's smile was forced. "I get it. Night, Grace."

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*Skin, May 2008*

"You don't know when my birthday is,” Boyd said.

"Well, actually, yes I do," Grace replied, wondering what had made him come out with such an inane comment. Hadn't they celebrated it all those years ago by going down to the river? Did he think that the years gone by had erased the memory of the day he was born?

"Not that I ever get anything for it," Boyd continued relentlessly.

Grace just stared, but it wasn't until some time later that she decided to do something about his 'lapse' in memory. "Boyd, have you got a minute?" she asked, looking into his office. The unit was quiet, everyone else off to lunch, and it was the perfect opportunity to speak.

"Of course. Come in."

Since ending his relationship with Sarah - Grace never asked how that went and Boyd never volunteered to tell her - he had been more courteous to her, having more time for her...it was like things used to be.

"What you said before, about your birthday...."

Boyd looked up, surprised. "What about it?"

"Were you serious?"

"No. I thought you knew that?"

"No." Grace sat down. "You know, I remember your birthday like I was actually there when you were born. I couldn't forget."

Boyd smiled. "You *were* there when I was born."

"So I was." Grace smiled back.

"But I didn't get anything this year."

"You haven't had your birthday yet."

"Or last year," Boyd continued.

Grace's expression hardened slightly. "You weren't here."

Immediately he realised his mistake. "Right. I wasn't." He paused. "Sorry," he apologised, and meant it.

"It's okay," Grace forgave him, and she meant it.

"So, what are you getting me this year?"

"A straight jacket."

"Grace!"

*_*_*_*_*

*"They're still involved in each other's lives, though."

"Yeah, well...maybe they need to be."*

Boyd wasn't the world's most perceptive man, but he also wasn't stupid, and Grace's words from earlier rang in his ears constantly, making him wonder whether she was talking about the skin heads, or themselves. It was certainly true that her and Boyd simply couldn't function apart – they'd tried it the previous year, when Grace upped and left after a particularly brutal argument, but she didn't stay away long, and Boyd didn't mind admitting he was completely lost without her. And while he had been with Sarah, they had hardly talked, but in the end, Grace was still there; she still cared for him, and he was now growing more comfortable with the fact he still cared for her.

*"They're still involved in each other's lives, though."

"Yeah, well...maybe they need to be."*

"Just like us," Boyd said softly, Grace's face hovering in his mind's eye. "Just like us."

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*Wounds, June 2008*

Fathers and sons.

Everywhere Boyd looked, he seemed to surrounded by them. It seemed as though at least one case every year involved children, and more often than not it was fathers and sons, in any kind of combination. Boyd felt as though he was being taunted, now more so than ever before, knowing that his own son was out there somewhere and there wasn't a damned thing he could do to help him.

*"We can't protect him. There's no happy ending here," Grace said.

"What do you mean?" Boyd asked.*

He couldn't help but wonder if Grace wasn't just talking about Jimmy; he wondered if she knew more than she was letting on, not in facts, but in gut instinct. Did she think Luke was beyond help? What was it that Grace had said to him once? In order to help someone, they have to want to be helped. And if Luke didn't want that help....

*"Well, he's not a child, he wants to see his father's body. Now, if that helps him come to terms with it...." Grace trailed off.

Boyd wasn't convinced. "But don't you think he should remember his father how he was?"

"He has to be allowed to grieve."*

Did Grace know something Boyd didn't? He had wondered. Now, as he sat alone in his office, he was certain his old friend was partly clairvoyant, perhaps a distant relative of Mystic Meg's. As soon as he had seen Eve in his office, Boyd had known what she was going to tell him. His son was dead. And he knew that one day he would have to go and claim the body, but Grace's words kept ringing in his ears, though not exactly as she had spoken them.

*"Well, you're not a child, you need to see your son's body. It will help you come to terms with it...."

"But don't you think I should remember my son how he was?"

"You have to grieve."*

Boyd could imagine the conversation as easily as if Grace was actually sat in the office with him. His hand automatically reached for the phone to dial her number and share his terrible news, but it always stopped short. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to her; he just didn't know what to say. And saying the words would mean admitting to himself that his son was dead. Boyd just wasn't ready for that. He knew Grace would say he was running away, that he would have to deal with things sooner rather than later, otherwise it would just fester like a wound going bad. But he just couldn't. He knew he would have to try and track his ex-wife as well, and that was definitely something he wasn't looking forward to. But it could wait. It could all wait. For now, Boyd just wanted to remember his son playing football, a time when Luke was Joe and loved his father, and Boyd didn't know what heartache was.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*Piéta, June 2008*

It was the way they were and now they both accepted it. Boyd didn't deal with his emotions very well, and Grace was the one who made the first move. It was always the same, and it always would be. Before they had argued about things, hated the fact that the other was like that, but now they knew that if they were any different, they wouldn't be them. If Boyd was a more caring, sharing, talkative guy, then he probably wouldn't need Grace in his life. And if Grace stopped making the first move, stopped mediating and keeping a lid on his temper, they wouldn't be in each other's lives either. Boyd needed Grace as his stabilising core, and Grace needed to be needed by Boyd. It had taken them almost sixty years to find their holding pattern, to actually truly understand what made their relationship tick. But finally, they did.

Grace knew why Boyd hadn't told her about Luke's death, and she knew she would have to take control of the situation as Eve obviously had no idea how to handle Boyd. The profiler didn't blame her. And when Grace asked Boyd not to shut her out, it was said with a touch of desperation, because she *knew* what Luke's death would do to her old friend, just like she knew if she didn't help him, no one would. This time it was crucial for them to stay together; if Boyd pushed her now, Grace wasn't sure she'd be able to come back, no matter how much he wanted to she wanted him to.

She thought her words reached him, but only time would tell. She wanted to reach out to him, but knew that would be the worst thing in the world. He seemed to be coping; there had been no irrational outbursts of anger, no fits of temper. Boyd suddenly seemed once again like the boy she had grown up with. But only time would tell.

*_*_*_*_*

Grace sat alone in her office with a glass of red wine, notes strewn across her desk. It wasn't unusual for her to be working late, or to be drinking whilst doing so, but it was strange that the bottle of wine was almost empty, and that she was staring in the direction of Boyd's office instead of down at her work.

The events unrelated to the case kept playing over and over in her mind. The moment when Eve had told her Luke was dead because she assumed Grace knew; the awkward silence afterwards when the scientist realised she'd just broken a confidence. But why wouldn't Eve think Grace would know about Boyd's son's death? After all, they were supposed to be good friends - best friends, even - but no. Boyd hadn't seen fit to tell Grace, and that realisation still smarted, bringing to the surface all the memories of previous times something similar had happened; either Boyd hadn't told her things, or Grace hadn't told him. It seemed to be a holding pattern they had fallen into.

When Grace had gone into Boyd's office after Eve had told her about Luke, she fully intended to have firm words with him. But seeing Boyd so lost and desolate had melted Grace's heart instantly; it took all of her self restraint not to go to him and wrap her arms around him, to comfort him like she had done before.

But she couldn't, not this time. It wouldn't work. Too much time had passed between them, and they had let too many things go unsaid to allow such intimacy as that. All Grace could do was be there for Boyd if he needed her.

The case itself had taken its toll on everyone emotionally, particularly Eve, who had been in and out of Grace's office up until the time she left a few hours ago just to talk about everything and nothing.

Grace sighed and stared dolefully at her desk. It was no use, she wasn't in the mood to work and besides, anything she tried to write would simply have to be ripped up in the morning due to all the mistakes she would probably make.

The phone rang and as Grace reached for it, she knocked her glass over. "Oh, bollocks," she muttered as she picked the receiver up. "Of all the fucking stupid, idiotic...."

*"Grace?"*

She froze at the sound of his voice. "Boyd? Is everything alright?" Grace grimaced. "Sorry, stupid question. Forget I spoke."

*"Who were you cursing at?"* Boyd asked.

"Myself. Spilt wine all over my desk, all over my papers."

*"I'm sorry, Grace."*

Grace stopped what she was doing and focussed all of her attention on the phone call. "What on earth for?" she asked in a gentle voice.

*"Do you want a list?"* Boyd replied flippantly.

"When you're retired," Grace said. "It'll give you something to do, keep you occupied."

*"I was apologising for making you spill wine all over your work, although I don't know why you're still at work."* He paused. *"You shouldn't drink alone, Grace."*

"You do."

*"And look how I turned out."*

Grace took a breath. "Peter, do you want me to come over?"

At the other end of the phone, Boyd smiled a little. *"No, thank you. That's not why I'm phoning."*

"Oh."

*"Unless you want to come over, in which case you're more than welcome to,"* he went on hurriedly. *"No, I just wanted to say that...that I went to the...mortuary and...claimed Luke."*

Grace waited for a moment to see if Boyd had finished speaking before replying. "I see."

*"And I wanted to say...thank you, Grace. For everything. And I don't just mean today or with this case."*

"I know what you mean, Peter," she said, smiling. "But I owe you thanks as well for the same. Are you sure you don't want company?"

*"I think I'm alright. I'll call you if I change my mind,"* Boyd promised.

"You do that. And if I don't see you before, I'll see you Monday morning bright and early for work, okay?"

*"Yes, ma'am."*

"Boyd," Grace said warningly.

*"Alright, Grace,"* Boyd replied. *"Now go home and have yourself a good weekend. Please?"*

"Yes, sir."

*"Grace!"*

TBC


	14. Interlude - Season 7 to 8

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*September 2008*

It had been, Grace decided, one hell of an emotional roller coaster for the past twelve months, probably more. In fact, if she wanted to, she could trace it all the way back to Mel's death four years ago. It was a hell of a long time to be stressed. But now was the time to sort everything out, and that was precisely what she was going to do. Boyd change in behaviour as he tried to mend his relationship with Luke had been a welcome one, especially because he had talked to Grace about it, at least until it came to Luke's death. But after that, it seemed like Grace was the only person in Boyd's life. After he had claimed Luke's body, he had called Grace to ask her help with the funeral arrangements. He also wanted to track down Mary, a visit that did not go well. She had slapped him hard once, then again for good measure, and told him she never wanted to see him again. She didn't turn up at the funeral, and in some ways, Grace was glad. Afterwards, she and Boyd talked a lot about Luke, but he never mentioned Mary again and Grace took her lead from him.

Now, a few months later, they had reached a point where Grace had decided total honesty was necessary. She had managed to persuade Boyd to go on a picnic, something that had taken weeks of cajoling to do, and luckily the weather was perfect. As she waited for him to arrive, Grace checked that she had everything, including a large dose of courage.

"Alright, now you've got me here and I've eaten the lovely meal you prepared, are you going to tell me what's going on?" Boyd rumbled a few hours later.

"You look relaxed," Grace replied. "That's good."

Boyd just grunted in reply. "You'll beat me up if I don't relax. So, what's wrong?"

"How do you know something's wrong?"

"I'm a detective."

"Well you're wrong."

"Good. How?"

"I just…I wanted to share a few things with you," Grace said softly.

Boyd sat up to attention immediately. "Go on."

Taking a deep breath, Grace started. "We've been through a lot together, and sometimes, the line between our friendship and something else got so blurred, I'm surprised either of us could see to think, let alone muddle through it."

"You don't need to tell me that," he replied, smiling.

"The thing is, I thought I didn't love you. I pushed you away because I only wanted to be friends, and then we stopped talking…."

"Because I couldn't stop loving you," Boyd admitted bluntly.

Grace simply waved the comment aside. "Old history. But when we started talking again, falling back into old patterns of flirting and simply being around each other easily, I realised something, and it wasn't a bundle of laughs either. I realised…that I did love you. That I always had, and that I had just been trying to fool myself into thinking I didn't." She smiled ruefully. "I realised when you started talking about Jess Worrell. I found I was jealous."

Boyd looked surprised. "Really?"

She nodded. "Then with Mel, and Frankie leaving, and Spencer being shot, and then Felix leaving…plus everything else that happened…you started pushing me away, whether you realised it or not, but now I know I was pushing you away too. Every time you moved away from me, I did the same from you, until we'd become two completely separate people that only had work in common. It was like a lifetime of friendship had been erased almost in the blink of an eye."

"My relationship with Sarah didn't help, either, did it?" Boyd asked, already knowing the answer. "Especially not the way I handled it."

"You weren't to know how I felt, Boyd," Grace told him in a forgiving tone.

"But I should have done. Dammit, Grace, you've already said we've known each other our entire lives, yet sometimes I feel like we've only just met! I realised how much I've taken for granted with you, and…I feel shit, to be honest. When we were younger, I did love you very much, but whether a relationship could have survived…I don't know. But I'm happy with what we've got now, with what you mean to me know."

"Which is?"

"You're my best friend," he said simply. "My oldest, closest, bestest friend."

"There's no such word," she replied with a smile.

"There is now." Boyd pulled a face. "You're my *only* friend, but that's not the point. I don't know how you feel about me now, but I wanted to be honest with you, and that's how I feel."

Grace placed her palm against his cheek. "That's exactly what I was going to say. I feel too old for anything else, and please don't say I'm not old. I am; we both are. I've endured the hassles of relationships, and I really don't want to go there again, not even with you. And as for what's happened in the past, it's exactly that: past. It's gone, it can't be changed, it is no more, so let's just forget about it. All of it."

But Boyd shook his head, gently so he didn't dislodge her hand. "If I forget it, I'll make the same mistakes again."

"Alright, but don't keep mulling it over. Just let it go."

"I'll try." He stared into her eyes. "Thank you." And then he leant forward and kissed her on the lips.

Grace tried not to look surprise. "For what?"

"For sticking with me," he said, lying down to look up at the sky.

"You're welcome." Grace lay down beside him, their shoulders touching. "Oh look, the *Enterprise*."

"The *Enterprise*? I think you need your eyes testing," Boyd replied. "That's the *Defiant*."

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*December 2008*

Boyd groaned and laid his head back against the couch. "I'm stuffed."

Grace regarded him from her curled up position in the armchair opposite, her expression one of amusement and fondness. "You ate too much."

"You cooked too much."

"Doesn't everyone at Christmas?"

Boyd just groaned again in reply and a comfortable silence fell over the room. "Did the others say why they didn't want to join us?" he asked eventually.

"No, but I know why," Grace replied.

He glanced at her. "Care to share?"

"I asked them if they would mind not coming. They said they didn't."

"And why would you ask that of them?" Boyd inquired. "You know how much they *love* our Christmas get-togethers."

The sarcasm in his voice wasn't lost on Grace, but she didn't rise to the bait. Instead, she said in her most mild tone, "We agreed we weren't going to do this any more, Peter. No rehashing of history, no chewing over old soup. Yes, Christmas' have grown progressively worse over the years, and yes, last year's effort was particularly pathetic because you weren't even here. But that was last year."

"Doesn't seem like so long ago to me," Boyd replied quietly. "Seems like another lifetime, though."

Grace nodded. "I know exactly what you mean." She smiled at him again. "You know, sometimes I can't believe we made it this far."

"Neither can I." He sipped his wine. "You didn't answer my question, though. Why did you want me all to yourself?" he asked in a playful tone.

"No reason, I just did. After fifty eight years of friendship, I thought I deserved at least one Christmas alone with you before there are no more Christmases left."

"Don't say that," Boyd told her seriously. "You know you'll live to be a hundred."

"God, I hope not!" Grace laughed.

"Is that the only reason?"

It wasn't difficult for her to follow his train of thought. "Yes. Look, Boyd, I'm tired of talking. We've talked ourselves round and round in circles these last few months, and miraculously, we've managed to undone over thirty years worth of damage that both of us have inflicted on this relationship." Grace sipped her wine. "So I think we both deserve this quiet time to simply be with each other. Unless you don't want to stay."

"I don't," Boyd replied.

Grace stared at him. "What?"

"I don't want you to stay over there," he continued with a smile. "I want you to come here."

"Peter…."

"Just friends, Grace. We've agreed on that finally, and that's all I want." He raised his eyebrows in hopeful questioning and gestured to the spot on the couch next to him.

Slowly, Grace rose and crossed the room, her joints protesting at having been sat down for so long. She sat down next to Boyd, put her glass on the table, and promptly leant her head against his chest.

"Is that better?" she asked in fond amusement.

Boyd's smile matched her tone exactly as he draped his arm loosely around his best friend.   
"Perfect."

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*June 2009*

Boyd walked into the squad room on Monday morning, after a weekend of enjoyable time spent with Grace, remarkably in a good mood. Until he saw the state of the office. Good mood evaporated as quickly as dew would in the middle of an African summer.

"What the hell…?" he muttered to himself.

"Budge up, Boyd," Grace said, coming up behind him. "Why are you…? Oh my God."

"Do we need a password to get into the office now or something?" Stella asked.

"No, we're…." Boyd turned and stopped. "What happened to your hair?"

Grace rolled her eyes as Stella tried not to look completely exasperated. "I've been growing it for the past year."

"I know, but…the colour…."

Grace patted Boyd's arm. "I'd stop now if I were you." Then she addressed Stella. "I think it looks great."

Stella smiled. "Thanks. So, why are we…?" She trailed off as Boyd moved out of the way so she could see past him. "Oh."

"Okay, so there was traffic on the way to work and now there's traffic *in* work," Spencer announced as he arrived. "What's going on?"

"That," Boyd replied, pointing.

All four of them looked into the squad room, completed confused, dumbfounded, and generally shocked. "It's…it's…it's empty!" Spencer exclaimed.

"Give the boy a coconut," Grace remarked dryly.

The DI ignored her and took a step into the very empty squad room. "But where is everything? All our files, computers…did I miss something?"

"What are you all doing here?" Eve asked as she joined them. Wordlessly, they all gestured to the emptiness of what used to be their working space. The pathologist, however, only seemed surprised at their surprise. "You didn't know?"

"Know what?" Grace asked in exasperation.

Eve immediately looked bashful. "You've moved offices…all of you. Except…well…Grace, you don't have an office. You've got a table under the stairs."

"Wonderful," the profiler said dryly.

"It's right next to Boyd's office," Eve carried on quickly.

Grace rolled her eyes. "Even better."

"How do you know all this?" Boyd asked.

"I thought I'd take a look at where you'll be working since I won't be joining you…."

"Hold on!" Stella held her hands up. "Will someone *please* explain what is going on?"

"Yeah, we're all ears," Spencer said as he rejoined the team.

Eve took a step backwards, which no one took to be a good sign. "We had a memo delivered a few weeks ago…."

"A few weeks ago?" Boyd repeated in a flat voice.

Eve ignored him and carried on. "…Explaining that the team is being relocated to…ah…smaller offices, but there aren't any lab facilities downstairs…."

"You mean this isn't the basement already?" Grace asked in surprise.

"…So I'm staying up here," Eve continued relentlessly. "You'll be able to talk to me through a web cam, though."

Spencer smiled sarcastically. "That's just great! And let me guess, the squad room's about half the size of this one."

"No."

"Oh. That's som…."

"It's less," Eve finished.

"I have just one question but before I ask it, I suggest you get ready to run," Grace said to the pathologist. "Why didn't you tell us about this?"

"I…forgot." And with that, Eve fled.

"I'm not chasing her," Boyd stated.

Grace was smiling. "You're forgetting one thing, Boyd. She forgot to tell us exactly where our new offices are. And since we don't want to wander around aimlessly for the rest of the day…."

"You're right, Grace." Boyd looked at Spencer and Stella. "Take a few days off. I'll let you know as soon as I've been *officially* told of our move."

"What about Eve?" Stella asked.

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her," Boyd replied.

TBC


	15. Season 8

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*Magdalene 26, August 2009*

Grace found Boyd sat in his car in the hospital car park. She didn't bother knocking on the window or trying to get his attention any other way; she just opened the passenger door and climbed in. Boyd never even twitched at the sound, as though he was expecting her to join him.

"I should have come sooner," he murmured, his voice hoarse with emotion.

Grace just nodded. "Yes, you should."

Boyd turned to look at her, his eyes dark. "You're going to lecture me about this, aren't you." It was a statement, almost a need for it to happen because it was the norm.

"No, Boyd, I'm not," Grace replied wearily. "It wouldn't make any difference anyway. It never has in the past." She stared out through the windscreen. "I lied for you, you know. To Stella. I lied for you, and for Stella."

"I didn't ask you to," Boyd said. Normally it would have come out as a sharp retort, but not today. Today he was too tired for anything other than a civilised conversation.

"No, but Stella needed to hear what I said. You never understood that girl, Boyd. She wanted your approval. She wanted you to accept her like you did with Felix and Eve. She wanted to be treated as an equal, not like the junior officer." Grace turned to look at him. "Would that have been so difficult, Peter?"

Boyd ran a hand through his hair. "We've been through this before, Grace. I always thought Stella was a competent officer, but she was hot-headed. She was too much like me in a lot of ways. I didn't want her making my mistakes."

"That was no reason to be so hard on her." Grace shook her head. "I thought you'd have learnt by now, Boyd. What with Mel and Frankie, then Felix. Even Luke."

"Hang on, Grace, Frankie and Felix left, Felix without so much as a by your leave," Boyd protested. "And Mel…."

"I know, Mel wasn't your fault, but you still feel responsible." Grace paused. "You felt guilty for not protecting her, and you neglected the rest of the team. That's why Frankie left. Felix felt neglected; she left."

"Luke always felt neglected," Boyd said quietly. "I take it Stella did as well."

Grace nodded. "And Spencer isn't feeling like he belongs any more either."

Boyd ran a hand through his hair again. "Shit. It's all coming apart, isn't it?"

"You can stop it if you want to."

"No, Grace, I can't. I can try, but in the end, if Spencer wants to leave, that's his choice isn't it," Boyd replied softly. "We both know what a stubborn arse he can be at times."

Grace smiled. "I wonder where he gets that from."

"What did you think about that PC?"

"Kat?" Grace regarded Boyd carefully. "I think she'd fit in well."

Boyd nodded. "That's what I was thinking." He turned to his old friend. "I'm going back to the office. You want a ride?"

Grace shook her head. "I've got my car, thanks. Messenger?"

"I think it's best coming from me." Boyd suddenly leant over and took Grace's hand. "Thank you. And I'm sorry."

Grace smiled again and placed her hand briefly on his cheek. "I'll see you later, Peter."

*_*_*_*_*

"Spence, can I have a word?" Grace called. She had to remember not to shout too loudly now; without an actual office, it simply wasn't necessary.

Spencer sat down opposite the profiler and nodded. "Yeah," he said with a smile. "What's up?"

"I was going to ask you that."

"What do you mean?"

Grace looked slightly incredulous. "Spence, Stella's dead."

His face clouded a little, but not as much as she was expecting. "Yeah, I know. And?"

"I thought you'd show a little emotion."

"Like Boyd did?" Spencer asked sarcastically.

"At least he went to the hospital to see her," Grace replied heatedly, hoping it would hide her defensive tone.

"What do you want me to say, Grace? I'm sorry Stella's dead?" Spencer shot back, standing and starting pacing. "But I can't change that. Boyd wanted me to go, but Stella insisted he let her do the job. And he did."

Grace stared at the DI. "So, what, Spence? Better you than her?"

"If that's the way you want to look at it, Grace, then yeah."

"I don't know you any more," she murmured, shaking his head.

"Look, you know as well as anyone that everything changed after Mel died." Spencer sat down again, pain shining in his eyes. "Frankie left us, we had that PC on loan…."

"Andy."

"Yeah, her. Then we got Stella. Felix came and left, and then there's Eve. Now Stella's gone, who we gonna get next?" Spencer shook his head. "You get numb after a while. I'm sorry Stella's dead, and I suppose in time I'll miss her, but…she wasn't Mel, you know? She never was." He stood again. "And I still haven't forgotten how she betrayed this team." He flexed his muscles almost unconsciously, and Grace knew he could still feel the pain from the bullets. "I'm not a monster, Grace. That's Boyd's job. But I just can't be that upset. Not when I'd be the only one."

"I'm upset," she stated, hurt.

Spencer smiled. "You're the mother of us all, Grace. It's your job. But what about Eve? Is she upset?"

"She was, but Eve's a strong person."

"So am I."

"So that's it? Stella's dead, shot in the line of duty, and no one cares but me?" Grace asked in a harsh voice.

Spencer bent and put his hand on her shoulder. "We all care, Grace. But maybe we're all just too tired to show it. You know I think there's a limit to how much time people can spend doing this job before it starts to eat them alive; I think I've reached mine." He stood and started up the stairs. "See you tomorrow, Grace."

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*End Of The Night, September 2009*

Grace didn't wait for an invitation; she just walked into Boyd's office and sat down. For a few minutes, Boyd didn't register her presence. He just continued to frown down at a piece of paper in front of him, his pen poised over it.

"Was there something, Grace?" he asked eventually.

"I just wondered if you wanted to talk."

Boyd waited for the right amount of time before lifting his head and looking at Grace. "Talk?" he repeated, laughing a little. "What about?"

"About what happened," Grace replied seriously. "It can't have been easy for you."

Boyd sat back and took his glasses off. "Grace, I've been in this job far too long to be affected by things like that. Yes, it was messy, but I've seen worse. And so have you."

"I just thought I'd ask."

"No, you wanted to know if I'd spoken to Kat about what happened," Boyd replied.

Grace smiled, not surprised he'd caught her out. "Well, there was that as well."

"You want to know if I ignored her, bollocked her or forgave her."

"Yes."

"None of the above," Boyd replied. "I just talked to her, made her understand that I wasn't angry or disappointed, and that I never wanted it to happen again."

Grace's smile grew gentle. "Good."

Boyd held Grace's gaze. "There are some mistakes I will not make twice."

"I'm glad to hear it," she said in a quiet voice.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*Substitute, September 2009*

"You did *what*?" Grace all but screamed at Boyd, who winced and closed his eyes briefly.

"What was I supposed to do, Grace?" he replied after a moment.

She stared at him. "Oh, let me think. Maybe *arrest* them? After all, you're supposed to be a police officer!" Her voice was heavy with sarcasm.

"Arrest them for what? Sitting in a car?"

"Possessing a gun to start with!" Grace threw her hands up in the air and started pacing.

Not long ago, the team had arrived back at the office extremely subdued. Spencer had grabbed his car keys and stormed straight back out, not even pausing to speak to Grace or anyone else. Eve and Kat soon followed, the PC offering to drive the scientist home. That just left Boyd to tell Grace what had happened. Predictably, she wasn't happy about it.

"What happened to making an effort, Boyd?" Grace asked. "What happened to trying to keep the team together? Do you really think Spencer is going to stick around after that little stunt?"

"If he wants to leave, that's his choice, Grace!" Boyd replied. "I've said that before!"

Grace waved an envelope in front of Boyd. "I think he's already made his decision."

"What is that?" Boyd asked, his voice suddenly quiet.

"A job offer."

"He showed it to you?"

"Not exactly."

Boyd held his hands up. "If he didn't show it to you, Grace, I don't want to know. You know, I would say I'd wait for Spencer to tell me, but since he hasn't even got the decency to tell me he's looking for another job, I think I'll just wait until I get to work on day and find he's not here!"

"So talk to him, Boyd!" Grace shouted.

"Why should I?" Boyd retorted. "If Spencer isn't happy, he can come and tell me himself. And if he expects me to congratulate him on his new job, he can think again. After all, I'm supposed to be clueless about his restlessness, remember?"

Grace threw her hands in the air again. "You are impossible!" She turned to leave.

"What would have me do, Grace?" Boyd shouted after her. "This is who I am. After so many years, Spencer should be used to and if he's suddenly unhappy with it, that's his problem. I can't change; you should know that. I've put up with a lot of attitude from Spence over the years, don't forget, attitude a superior officer should never have to tolerate. Bottom line is, Grace, he doesn't appreciate what he's got here. And he doesn't understand, and obviously you don't either, is that I do."

Boyd saw Grace's shoulders sag a little before she turned back to him. "I'm still mad at you."

"I know. Nothing new there."

"This isn't a joke, Boyd."

"I know that as well."

"Will you at least try to talk to Spencer?" Grace pleaded with him.

"If I get the chance, I will," Boyd promised. "Do you want me to walk you out?"

Grace shook her head. "I'm still mad at you, remember?"

"Right. Forgot."

"Don't."

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow then, Grace," Boyd said, turning and heading into his office.

Grace's expression turned sad. "Bye, Peter."

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*Endgame, October 2009*

*"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want any fuss."*

Boyd groaned and stirred a little.

*"I'm asking you, as a friend, to walk away from this."*

They both knew that when Grace pulled on the strength of their friendship, Boyd paid far more attention than normal.

*Boyd stamped angrily on the phone. "You fucking bitch!" he roared, racing across the room and tearing the web cam down. Then he slid down the wall, tears in his eyes. He flashed back to when he saw Grace in the hospital and he hung his head. "I'm so sorry, Grace."*

Boyd was aware, even in his sleep, of hands running over his hair, soothing him. Slowly, he dragged himself to a conscious level, trying to recall where he was. He sat up with difficulty, the hands sliding from his head. As he looked up, Grace's face was the first thing he focussed on.

She smiled at him. "Hi."

Boyd tried to smile back but couldn't. "Hi."

"Have you been here all night?" Grace asked, slightly amused even after everything that had happened. Boyd nodded, not trusting himself to speak. "The nurses won't be happy, you know."

Somehow Grace's hand had once again found its way into his, and he reached out with his free one, as though he was going to touch her face. But instead he let his hand fall to her shoulder, looking anywhere but in her eyes, as though reassuring himself she was okay.

As if reading his thoughts, Grace said, "Boyd, I'm okay."

"I know," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "But I thought…I'd lost you. I had to choose, Grace. I couldn't…kill Penny…but I…didn't want to…lose you. And then Linda…fell. I tried to hold her, Grace, but she didn't want to live. I'm so sorry."

To Grace's immense surprise, Boyd started crying. "It's alright, Peter. It's alright." She guided his head back down to the bed and started stroking his hair again, trying not to wince as he gripped her hand tightly.

But something else shocked Grace more than Boyd's tears. She found after all the years they had known each other, and everything they had been through, she still loved him, and she knew, in her heart, he loved her too, hand that was the most important thing. It didn't matter what form that love took; it didn't even matter if they talked about it or not. As long as they both knew it existed, that was enough. And after everything that had happened in their lives, he was still there for her, just as he had always been, or would have been if she had only let him.

And as Grace comforted Boyd as he cried, she wondered which one of them was the biggest fool…which one had made the most mistakes regarding their friendship. And while it was all too easy to blame Boyd, Grace was far from innocent. The times he had tried to help and she had pushed him away; in some measure, she was responsible for the way he was now, a thought that made her start to cry too.

Boyd's recent experience had affected him more profoundly than he or anyone else could have guessed, and a hypersensitivity to his surroundings had stayed with him, lingering like a ghost. He knew Grace was crying without actually realising it on an intellectual level. Pushing himself up onto his elbows, Boyd stared at his oldest friend for a moment before climbing onto the bed. He pulled Grace down with him until they were both lying on their sides facing each other, in mortal danger of falling off at any second and not caring. Their eyes were reflecting their feelings like thousands of mirrors, each reflection like a signal that kept being bounced back and forth, until it wasn't clear where one ended and the other began.

But the most important thing they discovered was forgiveness, of each other and themselves. Despite everything, they were still friends.

FIN


End file.
